


Bait and Switch

by Axxor



Category: Worm - Wildbow
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-03-13 11:28:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3379856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axxor/pseuds/Axxor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story features Taylor Hebert in the Wormverse, but with the genders of all the other characters reversed.  (Note that in this universe, surnames are passed down the female line, so they are preserved for the purpose of not having to make up new surnames for every.  Single.  Character.)<br/>The last section of the first chapter is lifted directly out of Worm chapter 1.5, only with names altered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**2000**  
  
"Are you ready for your first day of school?"  
  
Taylor Hebert smiled at her mother. "Yes, mommy," she agreed, kicking her legs in the car seat so that she could see the toes of her nice new sneakers pop up, over and over again.  
  
The truth was, she didn't really know what this 'school' thing was all about, but her mommy and daddy were so happy about it that she couldn't help but be happy, too.  
  
The car pulled up at the school gates, along with all the other parents dropping their children off.  
  
"Now, do you have your lunchbox?" asked her mother. "And your books?"  
  
Taylor nodded as Mommy undid the buckles holding her into her car seat. "Yes, mommy," she piped again. Mommy was so silly! She could see that Taylor had all that stuff.  
  
Climbing out of the car, she walked with her mommy into the strange new place called School. She had been here before, of course, when Mommy had taken her to talk to the nice ladies. But still, it was just a little bit scary with all these other children around.  
  
One of the nice teacher ladies came over to them. "Hi, you would be Mrs Hebert? And is this little Taylor?"  
  
"I'm  _not_  little!" declared Taylor stoutly. "I'm five!"  
  
Mommy hid a smile, and the lady smiled too. "Wow, you're tall for five."  
  
Mommy nodded. "She's going to be quite a tall young lady, I think."  
  
The teacher nodded. "I'm Mrs Farrel, Taylor. You're going to be in my class. Do you want to come with me?"  
  
Taylor looked doubtfully at her mommy. "Aren't you coming too?"  
  
Mommy shook her head. "Sorry, kiddo. Mommy has to go to work."  
  
"It's all right, Taylor," the teacher told her. "You'll make lots of friends here at school, I promise."  
  
Hand in hand with Mrs Farrel, Taylor allowed herself to be led away. Her mother watched her go, then went back and got into the car.  
  
She took off her glasses and wiped her eyes.  _My little baby is growing up,_ she thought, then blew her nose.  _Well, this isn't getting me to work._  
  
Danielle Hebert started the car and drove away.  
  


\o\

  
Taylor sat in the classroom and looked around. It was a little bit like where Daddy worked, but everything was child-sized and there were bright paintings on the walls.  
  
The boy next to her smiled at her. She smiled back, feeling better already.  
  
"Hi," she whispered. "I'm Taylor Hebert."  
  
"Hi," replied the boy. He had really bright red hair; Taylor thought it was the most beautiful hair she'd ever seen. "I'm Emmet Barnes."  
  


/o/

  
**September, 2008**  
  
The board game lay abandoned, pieces scattered here and there. Taylor lay over the top of the board, embracing Emmet, kissing him as passionately as she knew how. Her slim young body pushed at him; he kissed her back, trying to slide his hand up her t-shirt. She resisted at first, then let him, breathing faster as his hand cupped and squeezed her immature breast.  
  
The music from the speakers boomed in the confined space as she rolled on top of him, her shirt up under her armpits. He fumbled with the button to her jeans -  
  
The loud knocking startled them both; reflexively, they pulled away from each other. Hastily, Taylor pulled her shirt down and ran a hand through her hair.  
  
"What ?" called Emmet as Taylor started placing pieces on the board.  
  
"Is Taylor in there?"  
  
"Yes, Mom! We're playing a board game!"  
  
"Well, turn the music down! Didn't you hear the phone ringing?"  
  
Emmet got off the bed and turned a knob on the stereo; the music dropped to a whisper.  
  
"Sorry, Mom, we didn't hear it. I guess the music was a bit loud."  
  
"Well, Taylor's mom's calling. She sounds upset."  
  
With a relieved sigh, Taylor climbed to her feet. "I guess I'd better see what she wants." She leaned down to give Emmet a quick peck on the lips. "Keep it warm for me," she whispered. Raising her voice, she added, "And no moving the pieces while I'm gone."  
  
"Wouldn't dream of it," Emmet assured her, just as loudly.  
  
When she returned, he was leaning casually back on the bed. Bur she wasn't looking at him. She wasn't looking at much of anything. Her face was white as a sheet, and she was stumbling like she was half asleep.  
  
Emmet was on his feet in a second. "Taylor!" he exclaimed. "Are you all right?"  
  
She collapsed bonelessly into his arms. "My dad," she whispered raggedly. "My dad's dead."  
  
Emmet held her tightly as she began to cry; great hopeless sobs.  
  
"It'll be all right," he murmured inanely. "It'll be all right."  
  
But it wouldn't, he knew. Not really. Not ever again. Andrew Hebert was dead, and nothing would bring him back.  
  
A small part of him raged at the unfairness of it all. He'd been  _so close_  to losing his virginity.  
  
Another part of himself hated the first part for thinking like that.  
  


\o\

  
**Christmas, 2008**  
  
“But, Taylor, I  _love_ you!”  
  
Taylor let Emmet kiss her again, but she stopped him from pushing his hand up her shirt.  
  
“I love you too,” she replied as softly as she could, “but I just feel bad about it.” She felt even worse by putting this on him, but she couldn't help how she felt about this.  
  
“Come on, our parents'll never know,” he wheedled, his hands caressing her sides, and trying to slide down the back of her jeans.  
  
She felt her resolve weakening; she knew Emmet wanted to have sex with her, and a part of her wanted it too. They were both virgins; she had decided, back when she first found out was sex was, that Emmet would be the first boy she would have it with. Of course, she had imagined that this would be after a long horseback ride in the woods, or after a huge wedding in a giant cathedral. Not sitting on his bed, neither of them turned fifteen yet.  
  
It wasn't the thought of having sex with Emmet that she was having trouble with, although she was a little frightened about the idea of his thing going up inside her. It was the fact that she had been making out with him – fairly heavily, in fact – on this very bed, when Mom had called to tell her that Dad had been in a car accident. Even just thinking about doing it with Emmet here called to mind that day, and the horrible memories.  
  
“I – I can't,” she choked, pushing him away. “It's Dad. He died when we were kissing on this bed. And I know he'd say that thirteen's too young to do it.” She turned to Emmet; he could see that there were tears on her cheeks. “I cried myself to sleep for a week after it happened. I  _couldn't_  do it here, not after that.” She paused. “Anyway,” she added. “I started my period yesterday. We couldn't do it anyway.”  
  
“So when can we do it? And where?” he asked, not wanting to delve into the horrid mysteries of the female menstrual cycle.  
  
“My birthday,” she promised him. “When I turn fourteen. We can do it then.”  
  
He grinned and kissed her; she kissed him back. Her hand fell on his jeans-clad crotch, and she squeezed; he groaned.  
  
“Wow,” she murmured. “You're really hard.”  
  
He nodded. “I'm gonna be whacking this for an hour, later.”  
  
“Maybe not,” she murmured. Sliding off of the bed on to her knees, she looked up at him. “I can suck it for you, if you want.”  
  
She had seen his cock before, of course, when they were younger, taking showers together. But the erection that thrust out at her now took her breath away. She stroked it, gently. He inhaled sharply.  
  
“My god,” she whispered. “It's  _huge.”_  
  
It wasn't, really; Emmet was about average for his age group. But Taylor had never seen an erect penis before, and it did look dauntingly large for her.  _Am I ever going to fit that inside me?_  she wondered.  
  
Then she lowered her mouth to it, and began figuring out how to suck on it. Emmet's groans and moans guided her, and soon she was sliding her lips up and down the smooth shaft.  
  
He lay back, arching upward as her warm mouth suckled on his erect penis. It felt so very, very good; far better than any masturbation he'd ever achieved.  _If sex is better than this … oh my fucking god._  
  
All too soon, he felt the hot rush in his groin; he grunted, and then his cock spurted into her mouth. Caught by surprise, she choked a little, then pulled back. White splatters hit her face; one droplet caught in her hair.  
  
She wiped herself off. “You could've warned me, you know,” she accused him.  
  
“Wow, sorry,” he breathed. “Holy  _fuck_ , that was good.”  
  
She smiled at him, then wiped up a tiny trickle of white from the corner of her mouth. “Can you learn how to eat me out sometime, then?”  
  
“Yeah, sure, anytime,” he breathed. “Holy  _god,_  that was awesome.”  
  
She went and washed her face, and flushed her mouth out; by the time she got back, he was zipped up again. They kissed again, but he didn't try to grope her; he seemed to be massively relaxed, compared with before.  
  
“We're gonna do it on your birthday?” he reminded her, then kissed her again.  
  
She nodded. “Promise.”  
  


/o/

  
**June 12, 2009**  
  
Taylor's jeans and panties were around one of her ankles as she bent over the washing machine. Its thrumming drowned out her muted moans of pleasure, Emmet's grunts, as he thrust into her from behind. Her shirt was pushed up, her training bra shoved out of the way. Emmet's hands cupped and squeezed her small breasts as he rhythmically slid his slim young penis between her slick-wet labia, over and over again.  
  
 _Not a virgin any more, not a virgin any more,_ she thought breathlessly, in time with Emmet's vigorous thrusting.  
  
Reaching down under herself, she rubbed hard at her clitoris, pushing herself ever closer to orgasm.  
  
And then Emmet let go her breasts, grabbed her hips, and really started giving it to her. His cock rammed hard into her sensitive young pussy, deeper and deeper it seemed, until it felt like he was going to touch the back of her throat.  
  


\o\

  
“Mom!” she had called out from the kitchen, as the adults were gathered in the living room. “I'm gonna go put my new sweater in the wash, so I can wear it tomorrow!”  
  
“Wait till the current cycle is finished, kiddo!” her mother replied.  
  
“Sure, no problem.”  
  
Taylor gestured to Emmet, and they hurried down the steps. Just as they hit the basement floor, the washer started its spin cycle with a  _whhheeeeeeeeeeeee_  that grated on the ears. Taylor turned to Emmet and kissed him hard; he pushed her back up against the washer. Frantically, she tore at her jeans button, undoing it, and pushing them down. He unzipped himself, and pulled out his already-hardening erection, but she shook her head.  
  
Placing her mouth next to his ear, she said clearly, “Eat. Me. Out.”  
  
He shook his head. She nodded. He lifted his erect penis toward her. She closed her legs.  
  
It was obvious that he didn't have a choice in the matter. “Where?” he asked.  
  
She grinned and kicked her jeans off of one foot, and hopped up on to the vibrating washer. Spreading her legs wide, she gestured downward.  _Go for it._  
  
Bending down, he eyed her tender young labia. Reaching gingerly up to it, he spread her outer lips, revealing the pink inner flesh, soft and luscious. He had fingered her before, of course, just as she had masturbated him, but he had never seen her vagina properly. Carefully, he brought his face close to her crotch and began to lick.  
  
For Taylor, the sensations were nothing short of incredible. Her bare butt on the lid of the washer was transmitting high-speed vibrations through to her already-aroused pussy, transforming Emmet's fumbling attempts into world-class cunnilingus. She leaned back, bracing on her arms, and crossed her ankles behind his head. Her head thrown back, she gasped and moaned as his tongue worked on her ever more lubricated vaginal entrance.  
  
The taste, Emmet decided, was nothing to write home about. But what he was doing seemed to be working, from the tension in Taylor's body. Abruptly, she arched her back and pushed her pussy into his face, covering him with her slippery effusions. Her vagina seemed to be pulsing as she blasted through one powerful orgasm after another.  
  
 _This is my chance,_  he decided. Straightening up, ignoring his complaining knees, he tried to bring his erection to bear on her willingly offered pussy …  
  
… and failed.  
  
He was just too short to make it work. To his groaning frustration, he got the head into her twice, but it popped out again when he tried to thrust.  
  
Then Taylor opened her eyes and saw what he was doing.  
  
“Oh,” she said, and jumped down. Turning, she bent over the washer, thrust her butt out at him, and spread her legs invitingly.  
  
He didn't waste a second.  
  
She felt him caressing her thighs, rubbing her tingling pussy, and even squeezing her butt. And then he had her by the hips, and something was pushing into her. She gasped; it felt so big. And it kept coming, spreading her open, forcing its way into her.  
  
Had she been less lubricated, less eager, he may have caused her pain. But all that happened was that she felt mild discomfort as he slid into her for the first time. Her hymen went before she realised it, and then he was all the way inside of her.  
  
Emmet groaned; her vagina was clenching around his cock like a giant, lubricated fist. He  _had_  to keep going,  _had_  to start thrusting.  
  
He pulled almost all the way out, then thrust back into her; she cried out, and pushed back against him. He did it again; she pushed back harder still. Pushing her shirt up, he cupped her breasts in his hands, and began thrusting in earnest.  
  


/o/

  
He felt his orgasm coming on, and he thrust into her as hard as he could. She cried out as she came again, her just-turned-fourteen pussy squeezing his rampant penis so hard, so hot …  
  
And that was when he came; his cock jolted and spurted and sprayed her tender young womb with jet after jet of his hot seed. Grasping her hips, he kept fucking, kept cumming, kept feeling the exquisite sensations of her pussy grasping his erection. He couldn't  _believe_  how good it had been.  
  


\o\

  
Taylor felt him thrust into her, and then she felt the first jets of his cum. She started, her eyes opening wide, and then she came again, and she could not help thrusting back at him, even as he did what he'd  _said_  he wouldn't do,  _promised_  he wouldn't do. Came inside her.  
  
She was breathing raggedly, still bent over the washer, just winding down from its cycle, as Emmet pulled out of her. She could feel the traitorous trickle of his cum making its way down her leg.  
  
Turning around, she put her foot back into the leg of her jeans and pulled them up. Then she punched him, hard, on the shoulder.  
  
“Ow!” he protested. “What was that for?”  
  
“You promised you'd pull out first!” she hissed, doing up her jeans and pulling her shirt back into place with angry motions.  
  
“I tried, honest I tried,” he explained. “But it was just … “ His hand motions were inadequate for describing the sensation.  
  
“I don't care what it was 'just',” she snapped in a low tone as she pulled wet clothes from the washer, and loaded dirty ones in. “You came inside me! I could be pregnant!”  
  
“Oh, is  _that_  all you're worried about?” he asked, trying for a casual tone. “Didn't you know? You can't get pregnant if you're under fifteen. The body doesn't work that way.”  
  
She frowned. “Are you sure?”  
  
“Positive.” He nodded vigorously.  
  
“Oh, okay,” she agreed, and kissed him.  
  
 _Phew,_  they both thought at the same time.  _Dodged a bullet there._  
  
Fortunately for Taylor Hebert, she was a late bloomer in more ways than one. Her menstrual cycle was still irregular at this point, and so she lost her virginity when there were no eggs to be fertilised.  
  


\o\

  
**Early August, 2009**  
  
Emmet could hear his mother screaming. He was screaming, too. Face-down on the asphalt, jeans around his knees, he was being violated in the worst way possible.  
  
Two of the ABB thugs held his arms, while the third knelt behind him, holding his hips in a loathsome parody of the way he'd held Taylor when they gave up their mutual virginity to one another.  _That_ time had been wonderful, marvellous, amazing. He had been looking forward to when they could do it again. Sometime, anytime, anywhere.  
  
But instead, he was here, in this stinking alleyway, with these Asian perverts taking turns on him like he was a cheap whore.  
  
 _I've lost my virginity again,_  he thought, and wanted to vomit.  
  
One finished, and another one knelt behind him to begin; he braced himself desperately, and kicked out. By chance, his foot caught the ABB thug in the groin, and the man doubled up, spitting curses. He heard the  _snik_  of a blade opening …  
  
… and then a black cloak flashed across his line of sight, and his arms were released.  
  


/o/

  
**Late August, 2009**  
  
" _But why can't I talk to him?"_  persisted Taylor.  _"What happened?"_  
  
Zac Barnes prepared to snap back angrily, then restrained himself.  _She's only a kid, for pity's sake. It's not her fault._  
  
"Taylor," he began patiently, "Emmet was attacked. He and his mother were both hurt. They aren't hurt badly, but they don't want to talk to anyone for a while."  
  
 _"Okay,"_ agreed Taylor doubtfully.  _"Can you tell him I called, and ask him to call me back when he feels like it?"_  
  
"Yes, I can do that," Zac told his son's best friend. "I can definitely do that."  
  
He put the phone down, regarding it with a simmering anger. Abruptly, he drew back his fist and punched the wall. The pain sobered him, steadied him down.  
  
Emmet was hunched under the covers when he opened the bedroom door.  
  
"Hey, Emmet," he called softly.  
  
A vague motion, but no reply.  
  
"Taylor called. She's worried about you."  
  
A long pause. Then: "Does she know what happened?"  
  
"All she knows is that you were attacked," Zac reassured his son. "No-one's going to say anything."  
  
In his mind's eye, he saw his son, limp in the hospital bed, sedated. The doctors, their voices low but trying to be reassuring.  _... Rectal tearing, not serious, repairable ... Multiple assailants ... No other serious injuries ... Minor contusions ..._  
  
Ellen's injuries had been more serious; she had fought back. Kicking, scratching, punching. She had been slashed across the face, on the hands and the legs. One potentially serious wound to the stomach. They had not managed to rape her.  _But Emmet ... a fourteen year old boy ..._  
  
Ellen was still in the hospital, would be for a time yet, unless that kid from New Wave who called himself Caduceus decided to visit.  
  
He was more concerned about Emmet; the boy, although his injuries were physically minor, had withdrawn almost totally into himself.  
  
"I don't want to talk to her," mumbled Emmet. "I don't want to talk to  _anyone_."  
  
Zac gave up. "Well, I'm going to visit your mother. Andy said he'll be swinging by later. There's snacks that you like in the fridge."  
  
There was no response.  _I've done what I can._ Carefully closing the bedroom door, he went to get his coat.  
  


\o\

  
"The way I see it, it's the quick and the dead," the dark-skinned kid explained, waving his hands for emphasis. "Predator and prey. You take what you can, do what you have to, and push down the ones trying for second place.” He turned an admiring glance on Emmet, who was slouching along, hoodie pulled up, trying to be unseen. “I mean, the way you got that guy in the nuts was just  _amazing._ Right then, right there, I said to myself, that dude's no  _victim._  So I stepped in and kicked some righteous ass.”  
  
Emmet wished Sonny wouldn't talk about 'ass'. His own ass was still painful, from time to time, if he sat incautiously.  
  
“So, you gotta fight back, huh?” he ventured.  
  
“All the time,” Sonny told him. “Every time. Don't ever give the assholes a chance. Hit 'em hard, hit 'em fast, hit 'em first.”  
  


/o/

  
Emmet hadn't known what he wanted to find from the alleyway. He carried no weapon, just a canister of pepper spray. But not even that had been necessary. He looked around; there were no bodies, no sign that a brutal crime had been committed here.  
  
Several brutal crimes probably got committed there on a weekly basis, he mused.  _But the one that happened to **me**  was special. I can't even see a sign of it._  
  
Pacing up and down the alley, he grew ever more agitated, and finally kicked a trash can; it boomed hollowly as it rolled away from him.  
  
“AAARGH!” he screamed, raising his fists to the sky.  
  
And then the slim, dark kid stepped from the shadows, slowly clapping his hands.  
  
That was how Emmet met Sonny Hess, otherwise known as Shadow Striker.  
  


\o\

  
“You know how to tell how strong you are?” Sonny asked him.  
  
“How?” mumbled Emmet.  
  
“By how many people you're stronger than,” Sonny explained.  
  
Emmet thought about that.  _I want to be strong_.  
  


/o/

  
**September, 2009**  
  
Taylor stared at Emmet. “But … what did I  _do?”_  she asked. “You're my best friend! Why won't you return my calls?”  
  
“Because I've outgrown you,” Emmet told her loftily. “I'm not a kid. I don't do 'best friends' any more.”  
  
Emmet's new friends since he had started at Winslow, a slender black kid called Sonny, and a shorter brown-haired guy called Manny, both chuckled.  
  
“Bro's before ho's, dude,” Sonny quoted.  
  
“Respect, man,” Manny responded. They bumped fists, and performed an elaborate handshake ritual.  
  
Crestfallen, Taylor turned and walked away. Emmet watched her go. He recalled the last time they'd been together, in the basement, how warmly her body had moved against his …  
  
A hand slapped on his shoulder. “Dude!” crowed Manny. “That was  _brutal!_  You  _owned_  her!”  
  
“Yeah, I did, didn't I?” he muttered.  
  
“So, dude,” Sonny told him, arm over his shoulders. “Girls in the class. Who would you tap?”  
  
They fell into a lively discussion about the relative merits of the female members of the class. Taylor, Sonny decided disparagingly, would do well if you were a hard-up Catholic priest, because she was so skinny she looked like a boy from the back.  
  
“Not with -” began Emmet, and stopped.  
  
“Not with what?” asked Manny curiously.  
  
Emmet shook his head. “Nothing.”  
  
“Hey hey,” Sonny warned him. “Bro's don't keep secrets from bro's. And we're bro's.”  
  
“Yeah,” Manny told him. “Spill.”  
  
Emmet took a deep breath. “Not with her clothes off. She doesn't look like a boy.”  
  
They both stared at him. “Holy shit,” breathed Sonny.  
  
“Holy fuck,” echoed Manny.  
  
“Are you telling me you've  _hit_  that ass?”asked Sonny, disbelievingly.  
  
Emmet nodded. “Uh, yeah,” he told them.  
  
“You fucked Taylor Hebert,” Manny clarified.  
  
Emmet nodded. “And ate her out.”  
  
“Dude, are you a dude or a pussy?” demanded Sonny. “Men don't eat chicks out.  _Lezzos_  eat chicks out.”  
  
“Oh, uh, she sucked me off last Christmas,” Emmet offered hastily.  
  
That got him some credit back; they high-fived him.  
  
“But you dipped your wick in the Hebert puss,” Sonny went back to the main topic. “What's she like? Would she, you know, put out?”  
  
“Face like that, she'd give it out to the mailman,” Manny decided disparagingly.  
  
So Emmet described how it had gone, enhancing his own performance a little, as guys will do. He also enhanced Taylor's eagerness, just a little. As guys will do. Sonny and Manny ate it up; for all their big talk, neither was all that experienced, and both were itching to get in on a little of that action.  
  
“One big trouble to getting more of that,” Sonny decided, after Emmet had finished his account.  
  
“What's that?” asked Manny. Emmet already knew what the problem was.  
  
“Emmet just dissed her, hard, in front of like the whole school,” Sonny declared. He glared at Emmet, as if it were solely his fault. “Chicks  _remember_  shit like that. She's not gonna put out in a hurry after that.”  
  
“Yeah, Emmet, why'd you go do that?” demanded Manny. “Willing bitch like that, you make allowances.”  
  
“I - “ began Emmet, but Sonny cut him off.  
  
“So here's what we're gonna do,” he decided.  
  
The plan, as outlined by Sonny, was simplicity itself. Taylor was obviously too full of herself. So she had to be broken down. Made to see that she was worth nothing. Once she came to realise that, she'd turn to Emmet, her oldest and best friend, and ask for his forgiveness. Of course, she would have to prove that she was willing to do anything to be his friend again. And equally of course, his friends would be included in the bargain.  
  
“Will this take long?” wondered Manny.  
  
“Psh!” Sonny declared. “I give it a month and she'll come crawling to you.” He slapped Emmet on the shoulder. “And then the puss-ay begins.”  
  


\o\

  
The first month passed. Taylor Hebert did not come crawling to them.  
  
Two months.  
  
Three months.  
  
Irritated, Sonny declared that the campaign had to be stepped up. Unfortunately, Christmas Break came right in the middle of the fourth month, disrupting the whole thing.  
  
Emmet, with his good looks, was popular throughout the school, unlike Taylor, who tended to fade into the background. And, schoolchildren being schoolchildren, pranks were played upon Taylor by others, to curry favour.  
  
In the meantime, Emmet and company did not go entirely without female companionship; Georgia Veder gave up her virginity to Emmet behind the bleachers, and agreed to a return engagement featuring Sonny on the next day. Sonny, however, tended to be a little rough, and Ms Veder decided that she was no longer on the menu.  
  
Other girls came and went within their circle, but the one that they had originally set their sights on – Taylor Hebert – remained elusively out of reach.  
  
More pranks, more harassment, fell upon the inoffensive head of Taylor Hebert. By this time, many of the students tormenting her did so entirely of their own volition; they didn't even know why they were doing it any more. But the main pranks, the big ones, came from Emmet, Sonny and Manny.  
  
By now, Emmet had convinced himself that he was in the right here, that Taylor was just teasing him with her appearance at school. She wouldn't even look at him –  _him_ , the guy who had taken her virginity, with whom she had shared such pleasure. She  _owed_  him something for that.  
  
As the year drew to a close, and all of them still devoid of the pleasure of carnally knowing Taylor Hebert (for Emmet, a second time), Sonny hatched a different plan.  
  
A cunning plan.  
  
A plan that just might work.  
  


/o/

  
**January 2, 2011**  
  
Taylor puzzled over the note. She didn't know who it was from; the handwriting was unfamiliar, and there was no name at the bottom. But what it said was intriguing.  
  
 _If you want to know why people keep picking on you at school, come to Anderson Park at five o'clock on Sunday._  
  
She wanted to know, she really did.  
  


\o\

  
In the afternoon, Anderson Park was more or less deserted. Taylor moved through the shrubbery, looking around for anyone who might be waiting for her. At last, in the distance, she saw a dark-clad figure, who beckoned to her. She hurried closer, but he was nowhere to be seen.  
  
“Hello?” she called. “Who's there?”  
  
There was a shed nearby; probably belonging to the groundsman. She moved that way, and was rewarded by a flicker of movement around one corner. She went to follow – and then the world went black.  
  
Emmet grabbed Taylor by the arms as she went to pull the sack off of her head; quickly, Sonny tied the string so it couldn't just fall off. They wrestled her to the ground, and Manny held her arms while Sonny tied them behind her back.  
  
Emmet unzipped her hoodie, and pushed her shirt up to show her bra. Almost reverently, Manny pushed it up, revealing her small breasts. He went to grab them, but Sonny held up a finger.  
  
“Uh uh,” he told Manny. “Big E goes first.”  
  
It had been a year and a half since Emmet had had his hands on Taylor's body; it was every bit as desirable as he remembered. Her breasts were just a little bigger, and the nipples poked out when he squeezed them, just as he remembered.  
  
Each of them took their turns with squeezing her breasts, as she struggled and tried to scream through the thick sackcloth. Sonny was particularly vindictive about it, digging his nails into her nipples to make her heave and writhe.  
  
And then Manny turned to Sonny. “Pussy?” he asked – almost begged. He'd missed out with Georgie Veder – a bit of a ditz, but rumoured to be up for  _anything_  if you could talk her into it – and he was determined not to miss out this time.  
  
Sonny nodded. “Pussy,” he agreed. Between them, despite Taylor's struggles and screaming, they got her jeans open, and pulled down to her ankles. Manny got his cock out first, already rock-hard, and tried to prise her knees apart. She held them together with desperate strength.  
  
“Not like that,” Emmet told Manny. “Doggy.”  
  
So they rolled her over, up on to her knees. With pinches and leverage, they got her knees apart just a little, and wedged a piece of wood between. And then Manny got up behind her.  
  
Emmet held up a finger. “Uh!”  
  
“Fuckin'  _what?”_  demanded Manny.  
  
Emmet handed him a condom.  
  
“What, really?” sneered Manny.  
  
Sonny nodded. “DNA, dude.”  
  
Hastily, Manny ripped the plastic envelope open, and rolled the thing on to his urgent erection. Then he grabbed Taylor's hips, put his cock where it would to the most good, and shoved.  
  


/o/

  
Taylor screamed as the first guy penetrated her. She was not in any way ready for this, and it hurt terribly. He just kept shoving, though, and gradually managed to work his way into her. Her natural lubrication came to her rescue, and although it never became pleasant, at least her flesh was no longer in danger of tearing, as happened right at the beginning.  
  
After the longest time, the guy raping her shuddered. She did not feel the spurt of cum inside her; instinctively, she knew he was wearing a condom.  
  
 _Well, at least I won't get pregnant._ It was a very faint consolation.  
  
He pulled out, and immediately, a second one replaced him. She sobbed with pain and fear and outrage as she was violated again and again, the penis shoving deeply into her. This was the nipple-puller, as she had mentally dubbed him; as he rammed into her, he grabbed and twisted her sensitive nipples.  
  
 _When I did this with Emmet, it was so much nicer ..._  
  


\o\

  
As Sonny finished, thrusting the last few times into Taylor's abused pussy, Emmet made his decision. He'd already had her that way. Now he was going to show his strength by doing to her what had been done to him. But he recognised that this needed  _some_  lubrication, so he slid his length into her by now well-fucked pussy. And then he pulled straight out, and began to force himself between her buttocks.  
  
Taylor began to scream and thrash once more, as he wedged his cock deeper and deeper into her tight anal sphincter.  
  
“Dude, you're fuckin' her  _ass,”_  Manny declared admiringly.  
  
“When you said, you hit that ass, you weren't kidding,” Sonny added.  
  
Emmet finally managed to force his way past the sphincter, and rammed his way deeper. Taylor had screamed herself hoarse by then, and her struggles were weakening. Emmet even fancied that she was pushing back at him.  
  
 _Maybe she likes this,_  he speculated.  
  
In any case, whether she liked it or not, he was going to get his due. He was going to fuck her the way he had been fucked. He was going to get his manhood, his strength back, by fucking the strongest person he knew in the most degrading fashion.  
  
Deeper and deeper he forced his cock, harder and harder between her now-bleeding buttocks. She tried to struggle, to wriggle aside, but she could not. She could only take it. He grasped her hips, plunging himself to the hilt inside her, over and over again. Her harsh sobs were barely audible through the thick sacking. In his mind, he was back in the basement as he made love with her for the first time, his penis gliding into the hot slippery depths of her freshly-deflowered vagina.  
  
And then, just as it had happened the first time, he arched his back and came, spurting wad after wad of semen deep into her bowels. It was perhaps even better than the first time, and far better than the hasty affair under the bleachers with the Veder girl.  
  
Breathing hard, he pulled out of her violated asshole, looking curiously at the blood smearing her thighs, as if just seeing it.  
  
“Dude,” Manny said tensely, “we'd better get going.”  
  
Sonny nodded. “We done what we came to do. Let's go.”  
  
Emmet looked down at Taylor's half-naked, violated body. He wanted to do something nice for her, to show his appreciation for what he'd just done with her. Reaching down, he loosened the knot on the rope binding her wrists together. Then he ran to catch up with the others.  
  


/o/

  
Taylor lay in a haze of pain. She felt the bonds on her wrists loosen, and she worked to loosen them farther. Eventually, her hands came free, and she pulled the bag off of her head. Then she realised she was lying there half-naked, with an elderly couple staring at her. Their dog was just now sniffing at her discarded jeans.  
  
“Help me,” she croaked. “Please.”  
  


\o\

  
“Dude,” crowed Manny, “that was freakin'  _awesome.”_  
  
“I have to admit, you were right,” Sonny told Emmet. “She was all you said and more.” He turned to Manny. “I mean, how tight was that pussy?”  
  
“Not as tight as that ass, I bet,” Manny claimed. “Dude, you fucked that ass like a  _boss.”_  
  
Sonny looked at him. “Did you fuck her ass before?”  
  
Emmet shook his head. “Nope. Just, you know, felt like it.”  
  
Manny high-fived him. “Dude, when you tap an ass, you  _tap_  dat  _ass.”_  
  
“Just remember,” Sonny cautioned them all. “At school tomorrow, whatever happens, we know nothin'.”  
  
“My bro'll back us up, say we were playing pool all day with him,” Manny told them.  
  
“Works for me,” Sonny declared. “Hey, Emmet, you good with this?”  
  
Emmet nodded. “Yeah, I'm good.”  
  
But he was thinking about how Taylor Hebert had pushed back against him with liquid acceptance, when he had made love to her in the basement of her mother's house. How they had moved as one. And how different it had been, to brutally take her anal virginity by force.  
  
It had felt so much  _better._  
  
So much  _stronger._  
  
“Next girl I fuck,” declared Manny, “I'm taking her ass. See how she likes it.”  
  
“Try Georgie Veder,” Sonny suggested. “She's up for anything.”  
  
Emmet strode along with them, not talking.  _I'm strong,_ he told himself.  _I take what I want._  
  


/o/

  
“Now, now, Mrs Hebert,” Principal Blackwell cautioned her. “You can't put this on the school. Your daughter went into a public park on her own -”  
  
Danielle Hebert leaned over the desk, getting right into the skinny man's face. “Don't tell me what I can and cannot put on the school!” she screamed. “She was being bullied! She got a note telling her that if she wanted to know why, to come to the park! It's the school's responsibility to prevent bullying! YOU DID NOT! And my daughter got RAPED as a result!”  
  
She never did manage to get the school to admit any sort of responsibility. But she did get a compensation payout, sufficient to cover Taylor's hospital bills. Because Taylor lay there for a week, almost comatose, before she spoke again.  
  


\o\

  
Taylor lay in her hospital bed. When first she had woken up, she had thought she was going insane. Because strange things were happening in her head. Back in the park, when those people were doing those horrible things to her – she refused to even think about exactly what they were doing – there had been a long moment when she was somewhere else. She could not recall what had happened during that moment. But she had felt totally out of control, an insect compared to the universe. She had felt more in common with the bugs crawling in the soil than the people walking above.  
  
And something had  _happened._  
  
She just didn't know what.  
  
But if she lay very still, and didn't speak, perhaps she could figure it out.  
  


/o/

  
**April 11, 2011**  
  
“You really saved us a lot of trouble,” the woman in black commented. Her voice was a pleasant contralto, but muffled by the helmet she wore. Taylor realised her costume was basically tight-fitting motorcycle leathers and a motorcycle helmet. The only thing that made her think it was a costume was the fact that the full-face visor of the helmet was sculpted to look like a stylised skull, and was as black as the rest of her costume. Only the faint highlights of reflected light on the surface served to give a sense of what it was.  
  
The woman in black jerked a thumb over one shoulder, “When we got word Lung was aiming to come after us tonight, we were pretty freaked. We were arguing strategy for the better part of the day. We eventually decided, fuck it, we’d meet her halfway. Wing it. Not my usual way of doing things, but yeah.”  
  
Behind her, one of the guys whistled sharply and pointed down at the street. The two monsters the group had been riding on bounded across the roof and leaped down to the street to join the fight.  
  
The woman in black kept talking. “Wouldn’t you know, her flunky Lee is there with a half dozen guys, but Lung and the rest of her gang are nowhere to be found.”  
  
She laughed, a surprisingly normal sound for someone wearing a mask with a skull on it.  
  
“Lee’s no slouch in a fight, but there’s a reason she’s not leader of the ABB. She got spooked without her boss there and ran. I guess you’re responsible for that?”  
  
After a moment, the woman ventured towards the edge of the roof and looked down, then spoke without turning to look at her, “Lung is getting creamed. The fuck you do to him?”  
  
“Pepper spray, wasp and bee stings, fire ants and spider bites,” the second of the guys said, answering the question for Taylor. He was dressed in a skintight outfit that combined black with a pale shade of blue or purple – Taylor couldn’t tell in the dark – and his dark blond hair was about shoulder length. He grinned as he added, “She’s not holding up too well. Gonna feel a helluvalot worse tomorrow.”  
  
The woman in black suddenly turned to look at me, “Introductions. That’s Insight. I’m Ghast.” She pointed to the other guy, the one who had whistled and directed the monsters. He wasn’t in costume unless one counted a plaid shirt tied around his waist, army boots, a torn-up sleeveless T-shirt and a hard plastic, dollar-store rottweiler mask as a costume.  
  
“The guy with the dogs, we call him Bastard, his preference, but in the interests of being P.G., the good guys and media decided to call him Hellhound instead. Last and certainly least, we have Regal.”  
  
Taylor finally caught up with what the woman was saying. Those monsters were  _dogs?_  
  
“Fuck you, Ghast,” Regal retorted, with a chuckle and a tone of voice that made it clear she wasn’t really that offended. She was wearing a white mask, not quite as decorative or made up as the ones Taylor associated with the carnivals in Venice, but similar. She’d placed a silver coronet around her long black curls, and wore a ruffled white bodice with a flaring skirt over knee-high boots. The outfit was very renaissance faire. She had a build that made Taylor think of a dancer.  
  
Introductions done, Ghast looked at Taylor for several long moments. “Hey, you okay? You hurt?”  
  
“The reason she’s not introducing herself isn’t because she’s hurt,” Insight told her, as he continued to lean over the edge of the roof and watch whatever was going on at street level, “It’s because she’s shy.”  
  
Insight turned around and it looked like he was going to say something else, but he stopped, turning his head. The smile he’d been wearing faded, “Heads up. We’ve gotta scram.”  
  
Bastard nodded in response and whistled, one short whistle followed by two long ones. After a brief pause, the building was suddenly rattled by impacts. In just moments, the three creatures of hers leaped from the alleys to either side of the building and onto the roof.  
  
Ghast turned towards Taylor, who hadn't moved from her spot near the fire escape. “Hey, want a ride?”  
  
Taylor looked at the creatures –  _dogs?_  They were bloodied, snarling creatures out of a nightmare. She shook her head. The woman shrugged.  
  
“Hey,” Insight said to Taylor, seating himself just behind Bastard, “What’s your name?”  
  
Taylor stared at him. Her voice caught in her throat before she was able to get the words out, “I don’t… I haven’t picked one yet.”  
  
“Well, Bug, a cape is gonna show up in less than a minute. You did us a solid by dealing with Lung, so take my advice. Someone from the Protectorate shows up, finds two bad guys duking it out, they’re not going to let one walk away. You should get out of here.” He flashed Taylor a smile. He had one of those vulpine grins that turned up at the corners. Behind his simple black domino style mask, his eyes were glittering with mischief. All he needed to complete the image of a fox was red hair.  
  
With that, they leaped over her head, one of the three beasts hitting or stepping on the fire escape on the way down, eliciting a screech of metal on metal.  
  
When Taylor realised what had just happened, she could have cried. It was easy enough to pin down Regal, Insight and Bastard as teenagers. It wasn’t much of an intuitive leap to guess that Ghast had been one too. The ‘children’ Lung had mentioned, the ones Taylor had gone to so much effort to save tonight, were bad guys. Not only that, but they had mistaken her for one, too.


	2. Considerations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor spills all to her mother; Paladin worries about Shadow Striker

Taylor got home later than she'd expected. Shieldmaiden had been impressed by the way she'd dealt with Lung, and had posed good reasons for entering the Wards. She had also been very interested in what Taylor had to tell her about the Undersiders - for that was who the teen supervillains had been - especially Insight.  
  
She had spent some time just walking, thinking, about the idea. The school had not assisted her in the slightest when she had been bullied and tormented, and in fact, it was still going on. She had no idea who it was that had done ... what they had done ... but she was sure that the perpetrator was at Winslow.  
  
 _And I'm going to find out who._  
  
Before this night, she had felt hopeless, helpless, unable to control her own destiny. But she had taken on a supervillain, and at least survived. A hero - a bona fide hero - had congratulated her on the victory.  
  
 _I can do it again._  
  


/o/

  
She sneaked into the house, put away her costume, and started making herself a midnight snack to take to bed. Halfway through, she heard creaking on the stairs, and froze.  
  
"Taylor?" called her mother. "Is that you?"  
  
Taylor closed her eyes.  _Great._  "Yes, Mom, it's me," she replied. "I'm just making a snack."  
  
Danielle Hebert entered the kitchen, clad in dressing gown and fluffy slippers. "Really," she observed. "I suppose you're hungry after going out."  
  
Taylor froze again.  
  
Dani came over and put her arm around Taylor's shoulders. "Honey," she said quietly, "if you want to go out, go out. But please, please let me know where you're going. Especially after ..."  
  
 _After what happened to you._  
  
She drew her daughter in close to her, and Taylor felt an immense amount of guilt overwhelming her.  
  
"Mom, I'm sorry," she responded, putting down the butter knife and holding her mother close. "I didn't mean to make you worry. But I can take care of myself now."  
  
"What do you mean?" asked her mother. She sniffed. "And is that smoke I smell? Have you been smoking?"  
  
Taylor shook her head with a nervous giggle. "No. I think my hair got a bit burned, though."  
  
Dani Hebert pointed at the kitchen counter. "Make your snack. Make one for me, too. I'll put the kettle on. It sounds like we've got a lot to talk about."  
  
Taylor blinked. "You're not mad?"  
  
Dani took her face in her hands. "Kiddo, would screaming at you help, right now?"  
  
Slowly, Taylor shook her head.  
  
Dani nodded. "Then I won't scream. I'll ask what's wrong."  
  
Taylor felt strange, as though she'd anticipated a blind step into a yawning chasm, and found solid ground instead.  
  
"Um, okay," she replied. "But ... you might want to sit down for this."  
  
Dani nodded. "I figured."  
  
Taylor busied herself at the counter. "So, the first thing you need to know is ..."  
  


\o\

  
"Spoke to a new cape, out and about," Shieldmaiden reported.  
  
"Yeah?" asked Minute Man. "This anything to do with you bringing in Lung?" He spun the pearl-handled revolver on his finger and slid it into the holster at his hip.  
  
"One and the same," confirmed Shieldmaiden. She shrugged the multi-purpose shield off of her arm, and slung it on her back. "She used bugs to weaken her until the Undersiders could take her down with Hellhound's dogs."  
  
"Bugs, huh?" asked Minute Man. "How does that work?"  
  
Shieldmaiden counted on her fingers. "Black widows, fire ants, browntail moths, wasps, honeybees ..."  
  
Minute Man barked a laugh that he turned into a cough. "Holy crap. This new cape, it's a girl? She sounds like she means business. Working with the Undersiders?"  
  
Shieldmaiden took her helmet off. "I'm not so sure about that. From what I gathered, it was a chance thing. She overheard Lung talking about killing kids, intervened, and it turned out the 'kids' were the Undersiders."  
  
This time, Minute Man covered his mouth before the laugh could escape. "Holy crap. Saved villains from a villain. That's gotta be the suckiest night out for a starting cape."  
  
Shieldmaiden loosened her bun and shook her hair out. "Well, I spoke to her, and gave her a few pointers. Also, she might be interested in joining the Wards, if we play it right."  
  
Minute Man nodded. "Sounds good. Got a name for this cape?"  
  
Shieldmaiden paused. "Uh, no. She said she hadn't picked one out. Apparently it's hard to pick a bug-themed name that isn't dorky, taken or sounds like a villain."  
  
"Hm." Minute Man thought for a moment. "Good point. Very good point."  
  
Shieldmaiden pulled down Minute Man's flag-patterned bandanna and gave him a peck on the lips. "I'm going to my workshop for a while, Hans. If you see the bug girl while you're out and about, let me know."  
  
Minute Man grinned and nodded. He and Shieldmaiden had dated, years ago, and while the romance was no longer there, they were still good friends. "Will do, Colleen."  
  


/o/

  
"Did you hear?" asked Denise. Her helmet was on the table beside her, and her red hair spilled down her back.  
  
"What's that?" asked Carolina. She reached behind her to bunch up her hair, and pull a scrunchie over it.  
  
"Some new cape helped take down Lung tonight," Denise told her. "Hit her with bugs till she could hardly stand, then the Undersiders pummeled her into the dirt. Lung, that is."  
  
"God damn," commented Mitchell, taking off his visor and dropping it on the table, before sitting down. "That's hardcore."  
  
The other two looked at him. "Panorama, aren't you supposed to be in bed by now?" asked Carolina pointedly. "It's a school night. And you want to cut down on the swearing."  
  
Mitchell rolled his eyes. "For fuck's sake, Overwatch, I'm thirteen, not eight. I've been doing this longer than half the kids on the team. It's a school night for you guys, too."  
  
Sonny ruffled his hair, then sat down, dropping his hockey mask on the table as well. "Yeah, squirt, but you're younger than the rest of us, so you've gotta follow the rules, even though you're the grand old man of the Wards." His tone was mocking.  
  
Mitchell knocked his hand away. "Knock it off, Shadow Stinker."  
  
Sonny grinned. "You wanna make me, Bananarama?"  
  
"Both of you knock it off," snapped Carolina. "Sonny, go relieve Deanna on monitor duty. Mitch, go get ready for bed." She pointed at the clock. "School nights  _are_  school nights."  
  
They looked at her; she glared back at them.  _"Now."_  
  
Reluctantly, grumbling, they got up and left. Once they were out of sight, Overwatch turned to Timesnatch with a brilliant smile. "Aren't you looking forward to being team leader? It's  _so_  much fun."  
  
Denise rolled her eyes. "I might just abdicate." She shook her head. "Sonny's getting more and more obnoxious these days."  
  
Carolina nodded. "Don't I just know it. But he knows the rules and conditions, and he's always just inside the line."  
  
"Yeah." Denise's face bore a more serious expression than usual. "I'm worried about when he might decide to step over it. I've seen the way he looks at us sometimes, when he thinks we're not looking. Deanna's concerned too. If we bring in a new, younger, Ward, he might decide to haze her, or worse, in the field."  
  
"We can't do anything until he does something first," Carolina reminded her.  
  
"And by then it's too late," Denise stated flatly.  
  
"Yeah," agreed Carolina glumly. "Catch twenty-two."  
  
They sat in silence for a while, then Denise got to her feet and picked up her helmet. "Anyway, time I got my head down for a few," she decided. Leaning over, she gave Carolina a peck on the cheek. "Night, mother hen."  
  
Carolina smiled and put her hand on Denise's arm for a moment. "Night, trouble."  
  
Denise wandered off to bed, and Carolina sat, thinking.  
  
 _Leadership,_  she decided,  _is not all it it's cracked up to be._


	3. Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonny gets bolder and bolder; Taylor joins the Wards. Paladin has worries.

"I seriously do not know why I did not think of doing this earlier," enthused Sonny, as he fitted his mask into place.  
  
"It's a good plan," allowed Manny. "Just don't actually, you know, beat us up for real, okay?"  
  
He handed the balaclava to Emmet, and they both pulled them on.  
  
Sonny nodded and grinned behind the mask. "Yeah, you two look like real criminals. Got everything you need?"  
  
"Got it," Emmet replied curtly; unlike Manny's breathless anticipation, he just felt a cold satisfaction.  _I've been fucked enough by life. I'm gonna do some fucking of my own._  
  
"I mean, seriously," Sonny went on, "I only really got into this to pull chicks. But now I'm just being proactive about it, you know?"  
  
Manny clapped him on the shoulder. "Pure. Fucking. Genius."  
  
 _I know it's just what **I** need, _Emmet thought.  
  


/o/

  
Taylor had lasted through Monday on pure adrenaline. Jibes, taunts and pranks had all gone by the wayside; she was learning to use her bugs as a crude early-warning system, which allowed her to avoid most of her tormentors. But even the sight of Ms Gladly, in her low-cut top and too-short skirt, blatantly ignoring the fact that Manny and his friend Jules had just 'accidentally' poured glue over her class paper, could not stem her resolve. Outside the classroom, she was confronted by Emmet and his friends, but she steeled her nerve and walked straight past them, doing her best to ignore the taunts that followed her.  
  
That morning, in Mr Knott's home room class, she had gotten a message addressed to 'Bug' on the PHO boards, inviting her to meet the Undersiders. She had replied tersely;  _Sorry. Going to join the Wards._  
  
Almost immediately, the reply from Insight had come back;  _Okay. Good luck. Be careful of Shadow Striker._  
  
 _Now, what's that about?_ she had wondered at the time. Shadow Striker had been a classic 'avenger of the night' style vigilante before he had joined the Wards; he might be a bit dark and edgy, but he was a good guy. After all, he was in the  _Wards_.  
  
She had decided, in the end, that it was some sort of obscure Insight in-joke.  
  


\o\

  
Danielle Hebert sat in the car and waited for school to finish. She was terribly proud of Taylor for taking this step, for daring to trust her life, her wellbeing, to strangers, after the terrible events of January.  _Oh, Andrew,_ she thought,  _if only you could see her now. Our little girl is so strong._  
  
Of course, she would be  _worried. That_ was a mother's prerogative. But Taylor had already faced the danger and overcome it; she dared not let herself think of what might have happened if those 'Undersiders' had not intervened. And from now on, Taylor would be part of the Wards; they would give her the protection that Danielle could not.  
  
The last bell rang, and the students flooded out of the school. It was a matter of moments before the passenger-side door opened and Taylor climbed in.  
  
"Hi, Mom!" she chirped.  
  
Danielle smiled. "Hi, kiddo. How was your day?"  
  
Taylor grinned; she had her father's wide, expressive mouth. "About to get a whole lot better. Did you bring it?"  
  
Danielle pretended forgetfulness. "What was I supposed to bring again ...?"  
  
Taylor, not fooled for a second, shook her head. "Oh,  _Mom."_  
  
Danielle laughed. "Of course I brought it. It's on the back seat. Now buckle up; superheroes have to obey the law too."  
  
Taylor, who had twisted around until she could see the familiar bag on the back seat, sat back with a grin, and did as her mother said. As the seatbelt clicked home, Dani started the car and drove off.  
  


/o/

  
"Hi," the tall teen in the rust-red costume greeted Taylor. "I'm Overwatch." She extended a hand.  
  
"I, uh, still haven't thought of a name," confessed Taylor. She shook Overwatch's hand. "I thought you'd be bigger. Bulkier."  
  
Amused, Overwatch quirked an eyebrow. "Is this because of the Brute thing?"  
  
Taylor coloured slightly. "I guess, yeah."  
  
Overwatch smiled, coming to her rescue. "Well, as it happens, I'm not a 'real' Brute, like Alexander the Great, or Glorian. It's just that I can push my body far beyond the limits that most people have. Plus, my organs can stand in for each other if I'm hurt."  
  
"Wow," Taylor observed. “That's gotta be handy.”  
  
Overwatch shrugged. “It has its uses. It helps that I can redirect pain messages so they don't distract me.” She gestured to the other Wards standing by. “Everyone, this is Taylor, until we can think of a good name for her. Taylor, meet Paladin, Panorama, Headstrong, Victory Girl and Timesnatch.” She frowned. “Where's Shadow Striker?”  
  
“Solo patrol.  _Again,”_  the boy replied, with a roll of eyes behind his visor.  
  
Overwatch paused. “Wasn't he supposed to pair up with ...”  
  
Victory Girl, clad in red and gold armour, raised her hand. “Yeah, me. I turned around, he was gone. Sorry.”  
  
The leader of the Wards heaved a sigh. “Well, that's happened. Taylor's just joined us. She's got bug control powers. Could someone show her a spare room, so she can get changed?”  
  
The girl in the white costume, over which hourglasses slid and rotated, stepped forward and held out her hand. “Timesnatch, but you can call me Denise. No name, huh?”  
  
Taylor shook it. “Not yet. I'd appreciate help to figure one out.”  
  
Denise nodded. “Uh, if you'll excuse me saying so, is bug control your only power? Because I'm trying to figure out how you took Lung down.”  
  
Taylor looked around; everyone had stopped and was watching her. She flushed. “Uh -”  
  
Overwatch chuckled. “I'll field that one,” she told Taylor. “I happened to read the blood chart that they got from Lung, after they brought her in and treated her.” She turned to the others. “Enough black widow, bee, wasp, hornet and fire ant venom in her body to kill a normal person three times over.  _That's_  how.”  
  
The silence stretched for a long moment, then Panorama laughed. “Holy shit, that's seriously hardcore. Taylor, you're all right in my book.” Pulling his visor off, tousling his messy blonde hair even more, he stuck out his hand. “Mitch Biron. Pleased to meet you.”  
  
Taken slightly aback, Taylor shook his hand. “Uh, thanks,” she replied. “So you and Shadow Striker are the only two guys on the team?”  
  
“At the moment, yeah,” agreed Panorama. “Ever since Battery left, anyway.”  
  
“But Mitch is the only  _decent_  guy on the team,” put in Paladin; Panorama shot her a smile that lit up his whole face.  
  
Everyone looked at her; she shrugged. “What? Everyone knows it's true.”  
  
“Yeah,” added Timesnatch, “Shadow Striker's a creep. He's only on the team because -”  
  
Overwatch cleared her throat. “Classified information will stay classified,” she warned Timesnatch. “Each person's reasons for joining the team will remain private unless that person chooses to reveal it, just like secret identities.” She paused a beat, then pulled off her mask. “I'm Carolina, by the way.”  
  
Taylor smiled. “I'm pleased to meet you.”  
  
“Come on,” Timesnatch told her. “I'll show you your room. You can leave spare costumes and clothes there.”  
  
“Cool, thanks,” Taylor agreed, and followed her toward the maze of demountable panelling that covered half the dome.  
  
As they entered the complex, Taylor turned to Timesnatch. “Is it just me, or is there something between Paladin and Panorama?”  
  
Denise pulled off her helmet and shook out her long red hair, then sighed. “Well, Panorama  _wishes_  there was. He's had a massive crush on her, ever since he joined the team. It's just that she's so nice, you know? He's got a pretty shitty home life, from what I've heard, and she's always willing to talk to him, listen to his problems.”  
  
“Wow,” murmured Taylor. “Maybe I shouldn't have spoken … ?”  
  
Denise laughed, shaking her head. “No, it's fine. We all know about it. Paladin can't  _help_  but know about it, given that she feels other peoples' emotions. But she's going out with Glorian. So Mitch is outta luck, poor guy.”  
  
“Ouch,” sympathised Taylor. “Actually, is it me, or is he really young to be on the team?”  
  
Timesnatch laughed again. “Don't let that fool you. He's been in the Wards longer than Victory Girl and me and Shadow Striker. The only two that have seniority on him, for time of service, are Carolina and Paladin, and I'm not sure about Paladin. And  _he's_  only thirteen.”  
  
“Holy shit,” blurted Taylor. “How old was he when he joined?”  
  
“About ten,” Denise told her. “Okay, here we are. Doors are locked with a simple combination keypad. This one's set to the default, 4-3-2-1. To reset the combo to what you want, just press these two buttons together, and … “  
  


\o\

  
The girl was alone; she was walking down a deserted street. Behind his mask, Sonny grinned.  _Bingo._  
  
Pulling out the burner phone, he texted Emmet.  _Prospect._ He followed up with the street, and the direction that the mark was travelling.  
  
 _Now, to make sure that no-one else gets to her before we do._  
  


/o/

  
Emmet's phone pinged; he checked the screen. “Sonny's found one,” he told Manny. “Let's go.”  
  
He put the car into gear – it had taken a little wheedling to get permission to take the car out after dark, but it was worth it – and moved off. Manny did the navigation, directing him to pull in just around the corner from their prospect.  
  
As they got out of the car, Emmet locked it, then they pulled the balaclavas on. They already wore dark, nondescript clothing with thin gloves. Emmet's phone pinged again. The message said simply, _Now._  
  
They stepped around the corner. The girl, eighteen or nineteen, was walking rapidly down the pavement toward them, but she slowed abruptly when she saw them. Her hand went to her mouth, then to the purse hanging on her shoulder.  
  
Emmet and Manny moved forward side by side, as they had arranged. They didn't speak, so as to not give away their relative youth.  
  
“Hey, now, I got nothing you want,” the girl told them nervously. Manny took his hand from his pocket; there was a  _snik,_  and a blade appeared. Emmet was impressed; he didn't know Manny owned a switchblade.  
  
And then there was a swish of dark cloth, and Sonny landed between them, soldifying at the last moment to make a dramatic entrance.  
  
“You two just made a huge mistake,” he growled, twin crossbows levelled at the pair.  
  
“Oh shit,” Emmet spoke his scripted line, deepening his voice as much as he could.  
  
“Oh fuck,” Manny added.  
  
Both of them turned and ran. Sonny followed; as soon as they were out of sight of the girl, Emmet kicked a garbage can. Manny let out a yell of fake pain, and Emmet echoed him. They lay down; when the girl ventured around the corner, Sonny was pretending to secure their wrists.  
  
He stood and turned to face her. “You're safe now, miss,” he assured her.  
  
“Thank you,” she breathed. “Oh, thank you.”  
  
“Do you live far away?” he asked.  
  
“Just another couple of blocks,” she admitted.  
  
“If you want, I can walk you there,” he offered. “There's likely to be more lowlives than these around.”  
  
She positively clutched at his arm. “Oh,  _could_  you?”  
  
“Miss,” he told her, “it would be my genuine pleasure.”  
  
They moved off down the pavement, the girl sticking close to her saviour.  
  


\o\

  
Emmet and Manny waited until they were out of sight, then got to their feet and into the car. Lights off, they rolled after the pair.  
  
“Here's the thing,” Emmet explained to Manny. “Sonny's got this gift for persuasion, you know? Like that thing we did to Taylor, I would never have thought of it myself, but after he explained it properly, I saw his side of it.”  
  
“Yeah,” Manny agreed. “I hope we get to the pussy soon though. I'm starting to get the itch for some, real bad.”  
  
“Patience,” Emmet told him. “We'll see how Sonny goes with this one.”  
  


/o/

  
“Thank you  _so_  much for this,” the girl told him – he hadn't even bothered asking her name – and Sonny grinned behind his mask.  
  
“Well, you looked like a damsel in distress,” he told her. “And I've just gotta help girls like that. Besides, you're really, uh, pretty.”  
  
“Oh, you think so?” she murmured, pressing a little closer to him. She was petite for her age, and Sonny was tall for his – and wore lifts in his boots – so they were of a height.  
  
“Yeah,” he confirmed, slipping an arm around her waist as they walked along. “In fact, I think you're really sexy.”  
  
“Thank you,” she told him. “Uh, my name's Miranda. What's yours?”  
  
“I'm Shadow Striker, of course,” he replied.  
  
“No, no, your real name,” she responded. “Or aren't you allowed to tell people?”  
  
“Well, it  _is_  my secret identity, Miranda,” he reminded her. “I'm only allowed to tell people I'm really, really close to.”  
  
“How close?” she murmured, pressing up against him.  
  
“Well, if I was to tell someone,” he responded softly, “she'd have to be my girlfriend or something.”  
  
They had slowed to a stop by now. She shot him a glance from under her lashes.  _“Do_  you have a girlfriend?” she breathed.  
  
“Not yet,” he breathed back.  
  
She licked her lips. “Would you like one?”  
  
He glanced around, and tugged her sideways, into an alleyway. “Come in here, and let's … discuss … it.”  
  


/o/

  
Sonny leaned back against the alley wall, trying not to groan out loud with pleasure. He had taken his mask off, making sure that there were shadows enough to obscure his face, and he and Miranda had made out for a little bit. She was really hot for him, and it didn't take much persuading to get her on her knees when he pulled his erection out.  
  
She had a really talented mouth; if he was in the market for a girlfriend, he decided, she would be front of the line. And she seemed determined to get the position; the way she worked her lips and tongue and teeth up and down his shaft, he thought the top of his head was about to fly off and bounce around the alleyway.  
  
“Take your top off,” he groaned. “I want to see your tits.”  
  
Obediently, she undid her top and slid it off her shoulders, then unclipped her bra. Sonny stared down at her full breasts, bobbing whitely in the dimness of the alley, as she continued to suck his cock. _This was the best idea in the whole fucking world,_ he told himself.  
  
After that, it didn't take her long to get him off; he wound his hands in her long blonde hair and pulled her face on to his crotch, as he arched his back and came. Semen boiled up from his testicles; he felt the heat blasting through his groin as his cum spurted down his cock and into the back of her throat. She choked and gagged a little, but swallowed gamely and kept sucking.  
  
 _Fuck, this one's a keeper._  
  
Eventually, he was done. He sagged back against the wall, and Miranda looked up at him, wiping stray droplets from the corner of her mouth. “Was that good enough?” she asked timidly.  
  
He shakily zipped himself up. “Oh fuck yeah,” he assured her. “Come on, let's get you home.”  
  
As he fitted his mask back into place, he turned to her. “And by the way, the name's Mitch. Mitch Biron.”  
  
“Mitch,” she purred, tucking her bra into her purse and buttoning up her top. “That's such a  _sexy_  name.”  
  
“You haven't seen the half of it,” he assured her.  
  
She took his arm, pressing her bra-less breast up against him. “My place isn't far away,” she promised him in a sultry tone.  
  
He grinned behind his mask.  
  


\o\

  
Miranda's face was pressed hard into the sofa cushions; her hands were zip-tied behind her back. She wasn't quite sure how he had talked her into letting him secure her like this and take her from behind, but it was kind of kinky. His hands grasped her hips and he thrust almost savagely into her.  
  
 _He's getting a little rough,_  she whimpered to herself, but found herself just a little excited by it.  
  
“So, do you like being my hostage?” he murmured, reaching under her and grasping her breasts, pulling and twisting her nipples.  
  
“Ow – oh god yes, Mitch. Keep fucking me. Oh god.”  
  
The next thing she knew, he was tying a blindfold around her eyes. “Mitch?” she asked uncertainly.  
  
“Relax,” he told her. “It's all part of the fun.”  
  
And it  _was_  kind of kinky, to be at a superhero's mercy, to have him fucking her so hard from behind, degrading her so thoroughly.  
  
 _Wait till I tell the girls in the office tomorrow,_  she told herself.  _They'll be green with envy._  
  
He pulled out then, and she looked around blindly. “Mitch?”  
  
“Just getting a drink of water,” he assured her. “Be back in a moment.”  
  
And indeed, he was back in a moment. She felt him slide back into her, and resume thrusting all over again. She groaned; it was as though he had a new lease of life, like he was a new man.  
  


/o/

  
Manny and Sonny stood by, watching as Emmet fucked the girl. She was hunched over the end of the sofa, her arms fastened behind her back and a blindfold on her face. The girl grunted as Emmet rammed into her, her full breasts jiggling with the force of his thrusts.  
  
“How the  _fuck_  did you persuade her to do this?” he asked, keeping his voice low, so she wouldn't hear him.  
  
Sonny just grinned, then stepped forward to tap Emmet on the shoulder. Emmet pulled out, and Manny stepped in, in his place. As he began to pump his hips vigorously, to the girl's enthusiastic approval, Emmet stepped away with Sonny. “I wanted to cum,” he complained in an undertone.  
  
“You will,” Sonny assured him. “Trust me, you will.”  
  


\o\

  
Miranda was panting with exhaustion. She couldn't believe how long Mitch had been fucking her by now. He was like a machine, a machine that thrust its piston-like cock into her pussy over and over again, driving her to one blinding orgasm after another. And he was still at it. But now he was caressing her ass, squeezing it, driving her wild.  
  
“Miranda,” he murmured. “How do you feel about anal?”  
  
She was torn. On the one hand, anal didn't really turn her on. On the other hand, right now, she was so hot she'd try anything. And if Mitch was willing to fuck her every night like this, then she could surely stand a little anal to keep him happy.  
  
“I .. I guess,” she ventured. And in the next moment, she felt the lube being slathered on.  
  
When Mitch penetrated her ass roughly, lube or no lube, she cried out from the pain.  _I can take this,_  she gritted her teeth and told herself.  _I'm a superhero's girlfriend now._  
  


/o/

  
Emmet and Manny watched Sonny ram his cock between the girl's soft buttocks, deep into her yielding rectum, and grasped their own erections, masturbating slowly. Sonny fucked her ass hard and fast, driving as deep and hard as he could. He reached under her and grabbed her tits, mauling them with his fingernails, forcing her to push back on to his rampant erection as he forced himself inside her. She cried out and struggled against the zip-tie, but to no avail.  
  
“Mitch!” she protested. “You're hurting me!”  
  
“Nearly done,” he grunted. “Nearly done.”  
  
And then with one last titanic thrust, he came, unloading everything he had into her, filling her bowels with his seed. She whimpered in counterpoint with his thrusts as he continued to pump, spurting wad after wad of semen deep into her belly.  
  
When he finally pulled out, she slumped over the sofa, moaning softly.  
  
And then Manny stepped up.  
  


\o\

  
Miranda couldn't believe it. Mitch was going at it again. She felt his cock slide between her abused buttocks, pushing deep into her sore ass, and he began thrusting harder than ever.  
  
“Oh god, Mitch!” she cried out. “No more! Please, no more!”  
  
“Sorry, honey,” Sonny told her from over Manny's shoulder. “Just a little more. I've got my needs, you know. You've got to be able to satisfy them if you're gonna be my girlfriend.”  
  
Miranda began to cry from the pain of it, from the repeated assaults on her tightest hole. “Mitch, please,” she wept. “I don't like this any more.”  
  
“Then you shouldn't have led me on like that,” he told her remorselessly. “You told me you had it in you to be my girlfriend. Did you lie?”  _He must have superhuman self-control,_  she decided.  _He's fucking me like a steamtrain, but he doesn't sound like he's exerting himself at all._  
  
She felt his cock thrusting hard into her abused anus, feeling like a red-hot bar of iron, and gritted her teeth.  _If he can fuck me like he did earlier, then maybe this will all be worth it._  
  
“No,” she panted. “No, I didn't lie.”  
  
“Well then,” he assured her. “I'll be done shortly.”  
  
And just then, he thrust into her, even harder than he had done before, and came once more.  
  
 _Oh god,_  she told herself as she felt him pulling himself out of her.  _Thank fuck that's over._  
  
And then he thrust into her again.  
  
“Christ fuck!” she screamed. “How many times are you gonna cum in me?”  
  
“As many times as it takes,” he promised her. Tears were streaming down her face; she was in agony as his cock sawed in and out of her thoroughly tenderised anal sphincter. But he didn't care; he just fucked her ass, as powerfully and as relentlessly as when he had begun.  
  


/o/

  
By the time Emmet finished and came inside her, the girl was lying limply over the sofa, sobbing to herself. Long trickles of blood were running down her thighs from where her ass had abraded to the point of bleeding. She was more than half unconscious from the pain; Sonny gestured the other two out the door, then quickly cut the zip-tie holding her wrists together. She collapsed to her knees, holding her arms as if in pain. He gave her a kiss, and whispered in her ear, “I'll be back tomorrow for some more.”  
  
He wasn't sure whether it was the pain, the cessation of the assault, or his words, but at that moment, she fainted, sliding bonelessly to the floor. At the urging of some inner conscience, he put a sofa cushion under her head, then went to the door. Locking it firmly, he went shadow and stepped through the door, rejoining the others outside.  
  
“Holy fuck,” enthused Manny as they headed for the car. “I cannot believe that we pulled that off. I mean, we triple-teamed her twice, for fuck's sake.”  
  
He turned and high-fived Emmet, then Sonny. “Dude. That was fucking magic. When can we do it again?”  
  
Sonny shrugged. “Tomorrow night, if you want.”  
  
“I dunno,” Emmet mused. “We might want to wait till Friday.”  
  
“What?” demanded Manny. “Why?”  
  
Emmet shrugged. “It was hard enough to get Dad to let me borrow the car tonight. Probably better to wait till it's not a school night.”  
  
Sonny nodded. “Good idea. Friday night then.”  
  
All three of them performed an elaborate handshake ritual, then Manny and Emmet got into the car; Sonny went shadow and leaped to a nearby rooftop.  
  
His 'solo patrol' had lasted long enough. It was time to go back to base, pretend that he was sorry, and get chewed out.  
  
He grinned under his mask.  _It'll be fucking worth it._  
  


\o\

  
Miranda came to; her wrists were aching, her ass was in agony, and she was lying naked on the floor. Slowly, she pulled the blindfold off, to find that she was alone in her apartment. Painfully, she climbed to her feet and hobbled to the door, to find that it had been securely locked, from the inside.  
  
Then she stumbled to the bathroom, turned on the shower as hot as it would go, and slumped into it. Blood was still trickling from between her buttocks; dully, she watched it swirl down the drain. She turned to one side and threw up. After that, she curled up on the floor of the shower and cried, great heaving sobs.  
  
 _I can't believe he did that to me,_  she thought.  _He was so nice._  
  
 _I can't believe I trusted him like that._  
  


/o/

  
“And here are the camera feeds from places around the city,” explained Paladin. “This lets us keep an eye on potential trouble spots, and deploy in case of riot or whatever.”  
  
“Cool,” Taylor replied, looking over the monitor console. “And what are these?”  
  
“Oh, they're indicators to show where the Wards are in the city,” the girl in the silver and grey armour clarified. “When we issue you with your Wards comm, it will send out a signal to show us where you are, unless you turn it off.” She paused. “While you're in your probationary status, you really shouldn't turn it off, though there's no rule saying you  _can't._  It's for your safety, not for intrusion into privacy.”  
  
“Oh hey,” Taylor commented. “One just popped up, right there. Near ...” she scanned the digitised map. “Oh, near here. Coming this way.”  
  
“Ah, that'll be Shadow Striker,” Paladin noted, then raised her voice. “Overwatch!”  
  
Within seconds, the leader of the Wards was standing next to them; a rush of air followed. Taylor was envious;  _it must be cool to be able to fly._  
  
“Shadow Striker?” asked Carolina, fitting her mask back on.  
  
“You got it,” Paladin told her. “His majesty is on his way back in as we speak.”  
  
Taylor reached out with her power, taking control of all the bugs she found. These moved in search patterns, and soon found the dark-cloaked figure. “He just landed on the roof,” she reported.  
  
Both the Wards turned to look at her. “How -?” asked Paladin.  
  
Taylor grinned under her mask. “There's bugs up there.”  
  
“What  _is_  your range, anyway?” asked Overwatch curiously.  
  
Taylor shrugged. “It varies. About two, two and a half blocks, usually.”  
  
“And how many bugs in that range can you control at once?” asked Paladin.  
  
Taylor grinned again, though neither of them could see her.  _“All_  of them.”  
  
Overwatch blinked. “ … right.”  
  
Paladin glanced at the console. “He's on his way down now.”  
  
“Good,” growled Overwatch. “Send word to Deputy Director Renick that our lost lamb has returned. She'll want to know.” She glanced at Taylor. “You might want to go take a seat somewhere inconspicuous. This is likely to get ugly, and you don't want to get caught in the crossfire.”  
  
“Okay,” Taylor agreed immediately. “Uh, does this sort of thing happen very often?”  
  
“Not really,” Paladin explained. “Usually only with Shadow Striker. Come on, let's go.”  
  


\o\

  
The post-orgasmic afterglow was still with Sonny as he strutted in through the doors to the Wards' section of the PRT base. He was on top of the world; nothing could knock him off of it.  
  
 _I can do anything I fucking like, and get away with it. Because I'm just that fucking good._  
  
“Shadow Striker, reporting back from patrol,” he announced grandly. “Now I'm signing off. I gotta head home and stack some zee's.”  
  
“Not so fast,” Overwatch snapped. “Get over here.”  
  
Lazily, almost insolently, Sonny strolled over to where she stood, simmering with anger.  _I wonder how well she'd take to being bent over the comms console,_  he wondered.  _That tight ass could really do with a reaming. And I've got just the cock to do it with._  
  
“Yeah?” he asked. “What's the deal, boss lady?”  
  
“My office,” she growled. “Now. You have some explaining to do.”  
  
He shrugged. “Sure. I got no secrets.” Waiting till she moved off, he followed, his eyes fixed on her – admittedly very taut and muscular – buttocks.  _Damn, she's even sexier than I remember. I wonder if there was some way I could really hit that._  
  


/o/

  
Across the room, Paladin looked around with a concerned expression on her face.  _I don't think I like what I just felt from Sonny,_  she thought.  _I need to tell Carolina._ At that moment, the leader of the Wards disappeared around the corner, Shadow Striker following.  _Later._  
  
But Denise was talking to Taylor. “So, you got a range of two or three blocks, and you can control all the bugs in that area?” she was asking.  
  
Taylor nodded, looking just a little creepy in the full-face mask with the mandibles and the dull yellow eyes. “I haven't hit an upper limit yet,” she admitted.  
  
“But how well can you control them?” insisted Panorama. “Like 'everyone fly in this direction' or is it more fine than that?”  
  
Taylor shrugged. “Independently. Individually. I can tell them to do something like 'attack' and they all attack the best way they know how. But … here, let me demonstrate.” She held out her hand, and two dozen bugs converged on her from all points in the room.  
  
“Wait, you didn't bring any bugs in with you, did you?” exclaimed Victory Girl.  
  
Taylor shook her head. “No, but I could've, easily. After all, your countermeasures are more to prevent  _technological_  items coming in, not biological. These bugs were already in here. Shadow Striker brought three in himself.” The bugs formed a flying formation over her hand, then buzzed down to the table. There, they danced in precise and intricate patterns, no two the same, while Taylor held her gloved hands over her goggle lenses.  
  
“Wait – how are you doing  _that?”_  demanded Denise.  
  
Taylor took her hands away. “I can sense where every single bug is, to the fraction of an inch,” she explained. “I can tell each bug to go where I want, when I want.” She tugged at the fabric of her costume. “This is black widow spider dragline silk. It took me a couple of months to weave, using about a thousand spiders. But I could do it faster now. I've figured out what I did wrong the first few times.”  
  
“Holy shit,” exclaimed Panorama. “You made  _spiders_  weave you a  _costume?”_  He looked at the closely-woven silk, then down at his own teal and green outfit. “Okay, now I am officially jealous.” Paladin reached across and affectionately ruffled his hair; he grinned and wriggled like a puppy being petted.  
  
“Spider silk,” mused Victory Girl. “Is it as strong as they say it is?”  
  
“I've reinforced it on the armour panels with insect chitin,” Taylor told them. “I'm hoping it's knife-proof. It took me all my time to cut it when I got a sleeve wrong.”  
  
“And bulletproof?” pressed Paladin.  
  
Taylor shrugged. “I hope I never have to find out.”  
  
“Amen to that,” agreed Victory Girl. She looked closely at the silk. “That looks thin enough to go as a liner under my armour, and Paladin's too. You wouldn't be able to - “  
  
“Weave you up some?” Taylor responded. “Uh, sure. It might take a while, and I'd need someplace to keep a couple thousand black widows so they don't eat each other, but I figure I could manage.”  
  
The others looked at one another. “A couple of  _thousand_  black widows?” repeated Denise. “All of a sudden, this doesn't sound like such a great idea after all.”  
  
“Oh, you've got nothing to worry about,” Taylor told her, struck by an impish whim. “If they invade your room and crawl down your neck while you're asleep, it won't be ...” she lowered her voice ominously, “ … by  _accident.”_  
  
Silence fell over the table as they stared at her, then Paladin burst out laughing, almost at the same split second that Taylor did.  
  
“Oh god,” gasped Paladin. “That was awesome. You got her. You really got her.” She pulled off her helmet, and blonde hair spilled out. “That deserves an introduction. I'm Deanna. Pleased to meet you.”  
  
Victory Girl, also chuckling, removed her helmet as well. Her hair was mid-length and light brown in colour; she had pleasant but unremarkable features. “And I'm Christine. Anyone who can troll Denise like that is welcome in this team.”  
  
“Yeah,” grinned Panorama. “That was fuckin'  _awesome.”_  
  
Deanna gave him a mock scowl. “Now, Mitchell Biron, what did Carolina tell you about your swearing?” She tilted her head toward Taylor. “Especially in front of our new recruit? What's she gonna think about us?”  
  
“That I'm still better than Shadow Striker,” retorted the kid impudently; Taylor had to admire his spirit.  
  
“That's as may be,” Deanna told him. “But it's getting toward your bedtime, so run along.”  
  
He stared at her, obviously wanting to argue, but equally obviously not wanting to argue with  _her_.  
  
“... okay,” he agreed. “See you in the morning. Nice meeting you, Taylor.”  
  
Taylor nodded toward him. “Nice meeting you too, Mitch. It's good to be on the team.”  
  
Panorama headed off toward his room, and Taylor watched him go. She turned to Deanna.  
  
“He seems like a good kid,” she observed.  
  
“Oh, he's the best,” she agreed. “Hardworking, never shirks. A bit of a potty mouth, but I think that's to make himself seem older. Being the youngest on the team, but with more experience than most, has got to get under his skin, but he handles it. I admire him, a lot.”  
  
“But not in that way, huh?” observed Taylor mildly.  
  
Deanna shook her head. “You figured it out, huh? No, if he was a few years older, and if I wasn't with Glorian, I might have given him a chance. He's obviously smitten with me. But he's too young. I guess he'll grow out of it. Or maybe find someone else to follow around.”  
  
“Does it annoy you?” asked Taylor curiously.  
  
Deanna shook her head. “Not really. He's a sweet kid, always helpful. I like having him on patrol; I know he's always on the ball, always ready to back me up. That's invaluable in a teammate.” She smiled. “And it's a bonus that he's always happy to see me. As an empath, that's worth more than gold.”  
  
Taylor nodded. “Well, I'll be happy to go on patrol with any one of you,” she declared. “I think I'll really like it in the Wards, finding out how we can make our powers work together. I've already got some ideas I'd like to run past you guys when we get the chance.”  
  
“Really?” asked Denise. “So what sort -”  
  


\o\

  
“ - and I am giving you a  _direct order_  to not turn your comm locator chip off, at least for the next week,” snarled Overwatch. “Is that perfectly understood?”  
  
Shadow Striker shrugged. “Sure. I can do that,” he agreed.  
  
“And these solo patrols have  _got to stop,”_  she gritted. “You will  _not_  go out on your own for the next week. Is that also understood?”  
  
He tilted his head. “Is that a legal order?”  
  
She glared at him. “I will find out and get back to you. Until I do, you will treat it as one. Ditching Victory Girl tonight is already going on your report. Don't make it harder on yourself.”  
  
“But she's  _boring_  to patrol with,” he groaned. “Only wants to talk about her Tinker shit.”  
  
“ _I. Don't. Care.”_  
  
Shadow Striker shrugged. “Okay, fine. I won't ditch the boring Tinker. All understood. Can I go now?”  
  
Overwatch compressed her lips together. “Two things. I want a report on what you did out there. Where you went, who you encountered. I'll be checking.”  
  
“Didn't do much,” he countered. “Chased away a couple of muggers that were bothering a girl, is all.”  
  
“Hm,” she responded, a little mollified. “You didn't happen to get her name, did you?”  
  
He shook his head. “Sorry. Just saw her home, then headed off. Nothing else much happened.”  
  
“Well I'll want the report anyway. And the other thing. We have a new recruit. Which you missed because you were AWOL. So you're going to go out and introduce yourself to her in a polite fashion, to make up for not being here earlier. All right?”  
  
He rolled his eyes behind his mask. “Okay, fine. What's her name?”  
  
“It's up to her to tell you her real name,” Overwatch pointed out. “She doesn't know yours, of course. That's up to you. But we picked the name Buzz for her.”  
  
“Buzz?” asked Shadow Striker disbelievingly. “What sort of a name is  _that?”_  
  
“A good one, for someone who controls bugs,” Overwatch told him quellingly. “Now get out there and make nice. And I want that report soonest!”  
  
Shadow Striker saluted mockingly. “On my way, ma'am. And will do.”  
  
Turning ghostly, he stepped out through the office door without bothering to open it. Carolina put her face in her hands.  _I wonder if Director Piggot has days like this._  
  


/o/

  
“Holy crap,” exclaimed Denise. “That could actually work.”  
  
Taylor shrugged. “We can only try,” she noted. Then she saw Shadow Striker sweep around the corner, his cloak flaring dramatically behind him.  
  
“Hey,” he greeted them carelessly. Leaning over the table, he offered his hand to Taylor. “Buzz, is it? Pleased to meetcha.”  
  
Cautiously, she shook his hand. “Nice to meet you too, Shadow Striker. It's good to be on the team.”  
  


\o\

  
He grinned behind his mask as they shook.  _Timid. Not too strong._  He looked her up and down.  _Not many curves on her, kinda like the Hebert girl, but you know, she turned out to be a pretty damn good fuck after all._  
  
Out loud, he replied to her comment. “It's good to have you on the team, Buzz. So, bug control, is it?”  
  
 _I think you'll be my next project. Operation “get in the bug girl's pants” is a go._  
  
“Yeah,” she replied. “I hope I can be of use to the team.”  
  
 _I hope you can be of use to my cock._  “I'm sure you will be.”  
  


/o/

  
_Hm,_  mused Taylor.  _He seems nice. I wonder if the others were pulling my leg, just a bit?_  
  


\o\

  
_Ew,_  thought Deanna.  _I didn't like that **at all.**_  A frown creased her forehead.  _But what do I tell Carolina?_  
  
 _Screw it,_  she decided.  _I'll watch and observe. If he tries anything on, I'll let her know._


	4. Busted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor takes the name Buzz; Sonny's victim makes a call; Panorama is called in for questioning; Taylor agrees to meet with Sonny.

The anonymous sedan dropped Taylor off outside her house; she ran up the front path and skipped over the bottom step. When she opened the door, her mother was just coming through from the living room.  
  
"You're home," Danielle greeted her with a smile and a hug. "How did it go?"  
  
Taylor hugged her back. "Really good. They're all really nice. They told me to watch out for one of the members, called Shadow Striker, but he turned out to be really charming." She wrinkled her nose. "I think they were playing a trick of some sort."  
  
"Well, maybe you should keep an eye on him anyway," Danielle counselled wisely. "After all, they know him and you don't."  
  
"Probably," Taylor agreed. "I didn't get nervous with them at all. The counselling is really helping."  
  
Danielle hugged her daughter again. "That's really wonderful, Taylor. Just to have you going out and socialising, even with superheroes ... it's so nice to see." She held Taylor at arms' length. "So, did you come up with a name?"  
  
Taylor nodded. "It was Panorama who thought of it. We thought of names like Weaver, Skitter, Hive Queen, Swarm and so on, but they just didn't work. But then he said, 'How about Buzz?' and we all liked it."  
  
"So when do you start?" asked Danielle. "I kept dinner warm in the oven for you, by the way."  
  
Taylor giggled. "Thanks. They offered me dinner there, but I was so excited I couldn't eat."  
  
"Well, come on through and you can tell me all about it," her mother invited.  
  


\o\

  
Miranda reached for the phone, then let her hand drop.  _I have to tell someone,_  she raged at herself.  _I can't let him get away with it._  
  
This time she picked up the receiver, then put it down again.  _Who do I tell? The police? The PRT? The Protectorate? I gave him a blowjob in an alley of my own free will. I invited him in. I let him tie me up. I agreed to let him put it in my ass. They might say it's my fault._  Doubts assailled her.  _What if it really _was_  my fault? What if I brought it on myself?_  
  
She tenderly felt around her anal region; the pad she had put in the back of her panties seemed to be doing its job. But she couldn't sit down comfortably.  _At least I have to ring in, tell them I can't go to work tomorrow. Sitting down for eight hours - I can't do that._  
  
Anger suffused her.  _I have to tell **someone**. Even if it is my fault. But it can't be. He should have stopped when I told him to._  
  
This time, she picked up the phone, and dialled.  
  
"Hello, Mary? Yes, it's me. Look, can you tell them tomorrow that I can't come in? I can't work for the next few days. I'll be taking my sick leave. No, I'm all right. I just can't work. Yes, I'll be fine. Thanks, Mary, you're the best."  
  
She put the phone down, shaking all over. Even that small interaction with a friend had cost her.  
  
Steeling herself, she picked up the phone, and dialled directory services. "Could I please have the number for the PRT in Brockton Bay?"  
  
 _I can even prove it. He gave me his real name._  
  


/o/

  
Ed Piggot was a big man, and the events of the Goblin Queen, ten years previously, had cost him dearly in terms of his health. Today, even the walk from the elevator to his desk was painful; he slumped into his chair with a sigh.  _Is being Director really worth this?_  he asked himself. Then he answered his own question.  _If not me watching over them, then who? Who else is willing to make the hard decisions, to bring the capes into line when they need it?_  
  
Opening the first item on his computer desktop, he frowned.  _What the hell is this? A rape complaint against a Ward?_  
  
The folder contained a sound file, which he clicked on. It was a phone conversation with a woman, who seemed to be on the edge of hysteria.  
  
 _"He was - he seemed nice - he kissed me .. we -"_  
  
 _"Take your time, ma'am,"_  the operator soothed her.  _"If you want, we can send someone to your location."_  
  
 _"No - no,_  the woman replied hastily.  _"I don't want to see anyone."_  
  
 _"But we're going to need to see a doctor's appraisal of the situation,"_  the operator told her gently.  _"You do understand that, don't you?"_  
  
 _"Don't you believe me?"_  screamed the woman.  _"I'm telling you, he raped me!"_  
  
 _"Ma'am, even normal cases of rape require independent verification,"_  the operator told her.  _"But you don't need to do that immediately. Just give me the details of what happened, and the identity of the cape who did this to you."_  
  
 _"He - he told me his real name. Mitchell. I thought he was nice. But he tied me up and ... oh god ..."_  There came the sound of sobbing, then retching.  
  
 _"Ma'am,"_  the operator told her,  _"I believe that you are in physical distress. I'm going to direct a paramedic team to your location. Only women will attend you, I promise. Can you agree to that?"_  
  
There was no answer, although the operator tried several more times. The sound file ended shortly after.  
  
Piggot skimmed the rest of the contents of the folder. A dry, factual report from the paramedic team that had attended the woman's apartment. Knocking had not produced a response; they had located the building superintendent and had him open the door, to find her unconscious on the floor, the phone still beside her. The operator was still vainly attempting to get a response from her.  
  
The female paramedics had examined the woman, and had determined that she had been indeed sexually assaulted in a fairly brutal fashion. Her wrists showed signs of being bound by a plastic zip-tie, bearing out her story. A rape kit was employed; samples were taken from her vagina and anus both. Copious amounts of semen seemed to indicate more than one assaillant, although she had insisted that there was only one involved.  
  
The woman had been unresponsive to stimuli; she had been put on an IV drip and taken in to the hospital. The report did not state whether she had regained consciousness.  
  
Piggot sat back, trying to come to terms with this.  _Christ fuck. What a mess._  He ran his hands through his thinning hair.  _Is one of our Wards a rapist, or is someone trying to pull one over on us? We need a physical description._  He flicked through the files on his computer.  _Is Panorama even **capable**  of something like this?_  
  
There was something very wrong about all of this.  
  
 _I'm going to have to move very carefully until the lab tests come back._  
  


\o\

  
Sonny grinned at Emmet. "What we did last night ... reckon we could pull it on Hebert again sometime?"  
  
Emmet licked his lips. "Man ... she had the  _tightest_  ass."  
  
Sonny punched him on the shoulder. "What I was thinking. But this time, asshole, you  _share_."  
  
Emmet looked around. "Talking about sharing, where's Manny?"  
  
Sonny shrugged. "Slipped out for a quickie with Georgie Veder."  
  
Emmet grinned. "Damn, that girl gets around. Is there any guy in our year who  _hasn't_  had her?"  
  
"Dunno. But Manny always goes back to her."  
  
"Must be love."  
  
They both burst out laughing, and moved on.  
  


/o/

  
Manny grunted as he thrust hard into Georgina Veder's yielding ass. She braced herself, pushing back on him, her sphincter loosening to accommodate his driving erection. "So I was thinking," she continued, maintaining her inane chatter as she had ever since he had persuaded her to sneak down behind the bleachers with him, "I might wear a red dress to that party on Saturday night, what do you think?"  
  
He ignored her, grasping her hips as he kept fucking her ass. She was, incredibly, loosening up even more now as he approached his climax.  
  
"Anyway," she went on, ignoring the fact that a cock was pounding at her ass, "for the prom, we should wear matching outfits. I'm thinking a red sash for me and a red tie for you."  
  
Reaching under her, he grabbed her swinging breasts and squeezed them hard. She arched her back, crying out with pain, and clenched around him quite appreciably. That did it; a few more thrusts and he emptied out inside her, filling her full of semen where so many had gone before.  
  
After he pulled out, they lay side by side on the rough matting, catching their breath. She rolled over to face him. "Manfred, have you been listening to a thing I've been saying?"  
  
"Uh, yeah, yeah," he grunted. "Sorry. I was distracted."  
  
"Oh, that's okay," she told him. "Listen, I was thinking we can get engaged straight after graduation, and married a year later, what do you think?"  
  
He stared at her in horror.  _"Married?_  What the fuck are you talking about?"  
  
She blinked at him. "But - I thought you liked me. You keep coming back here with me. And you like to put it ..." she leaned closer and whispered, "in my bottom." She drew back. "But I have to tell you, after we get married, we shouldn't do that any more. It hurts when you squeeze my breasts."  
  
He shook his head. "Listen, the only reason I come down here with you is because none of the other bitches let me fuck them up the ass just because I bought them lunch."  
  
She looked at him, eyes huge. "But you  _do_  buy me lunch. Doesn't that mean you like me?"  
  
He snorted. "No! It just means that I'm fucking horny. And I'm starting to wonder if it's worth the trouble. You talk all the fucking time, and put me off my game." He grabbed his penis, which was starting to show signs of life once more. "Anyway, we've still got time for another fuck. Let's go."  
  
But she was dragging her clothes on, crying. "I - I thought you  _liked_  me!"  
  
"I like your  _ass_ ," he retorted. But before he could get up and stop her, she had fled back toward the school, still crying.  
  
Scratching his head, he stared after her.  _Now what the fuck's wrong with **her**?_  
  


\o\

  
"Mitchell Biron?"  
  
Mitch looked up, guiltily closing his book over a sketch of how he would like a costume design by Buzz to work. "Uh, yes?"  
  
"If you can come with me, please."  
  
Obediently, Mitchell dropped his book into his bag and got up from his desk. At the same time, he knew, several other boys matching his rough description would also be getting pulled from class for some unspecified reason. Also one girl, he knew. Which seemed ridiculous;  _a girl wouldn't know what to do with my power._  The very  _idea_.  
  
The people waiting outside the classroom were dressed as police officers, but he recognised them from the PRT staff in the building; he nodded to them. "Okay, let's go."  
  
Oddly, they fell into step around him, front and back and both sides, as if trying to hide him from someone, or ... to fence him in?  
  
 _What's going on here?_  
  
Once they were outside the school, he spoke again. "What's the situation? Where am I needed? You brought my costume, right?"  
  
One of the PRT/cops shook his head, his eyes cold. "No, sir. The situation is different. Please get into the car."  
  
Puzzled, he got in the back of the car. An officer got in with him. The door shut; he was sure it was locked from the outside.  
  
Starting to get a little apprehensive, he cleared his throat. "I need to contact my superiors. Now."  
  
The officer sitting beside him shook his head. "No communication."  
  
"You don't understand," Mitchell insisted, wary for any move. Surreptitiously, he expanded the distance between them by another foot. "If I don't get clarification, I'm obliged to assume that this is an abduction. And I  _will_  react accordingly."  
  
That got the attention of everyone in the vehicle. Slowly, the officer in the back pulled out a mobile phone. "What number?"  
  
Mitch recited it. The officer punched it in, and put it on speaker.  
  
 _"You've reached Director Piggot."_  
  
"Sir," began Mitch. "This is Panorama. I require Master/Stranger verification."  
  
Piggot didn't hesitate.  _"December thirteen."_  
  
Mitchell nodded. "May nine."  
  
Piggot replied at once.  _"Tequila."_  
  
Mitchell took a deep breath. "Thank you, Director. I presume I'm being brought to see you?"  
  
 _"That is correct."_  
  
"May I ask what this is about?"  
  
 _"You may not."_  
  
Mitchell nodded again. "I understand. I'm good. I'll see you soon."  
  
 _"Piggot, out."_  
  
The officer put the phone away, and nodded to the driver. "Okay, we can go now."  
  
As the car started off, he turned to Mitchell. "What would you have done, anyway?"  
  
Mitchell smiled. "That would be telling."  
  
The rest of the ride passed by in silence.  
  


/o/

  
Mitchell was not brought to the Director's office; instead, he went to a meeting room. Waiting there already were several people; his parents, a man in a suit he didn't know, a woman in a severe dress, Overwatch, Deputy Director Renick, and Director Piggot himself. Two PRT officers were also in evidence.  
  
The first person he looked to was Overwatch. She was wearing her mask, so he assumed the lawyer was not privy to her secret identity. In any case, his parents certainly were not.  
  
"Overwatch," he asked, "what's going  _on?_  No-one will tell me anything."  
  
The PRT officers were staring at him.  _"This_  is Mitchell Biron?" one of them asked, then caught himself.  _"You're_  Mitchell Biron?" he asked directly.  
  
Mitch glanced at Overwatch; she nodded fractionally. "Yes," he declared. "I'm Mitch Biron. Now, can  _someone_  tell me what the hell's going on here?"  
  
Most of the adults frowned slightly; Overwatch chuckled. Both Piggot and Renick glanced at her.  
  
"It's Mitch, all right," she told them. "I've been telling him to stop swearing for months."  
  
Ed Piggot nodded. "Okay, Mitchell," he stated. "Please take a seat." Once Mitch had done so, next to Overwatch, he continued. "I'm sorry about all this rigmarole, but given that you're a minor, we couldn't ask you  _any_  questions until we were in private, with your parents and an attourney present -"   
  
Mitch glanced at the man in the suit. Two thoughts chased one another through his mind.  _So **that's**  what he is._ And then, the second:  _What do they think I need an attourney for?_  
  
" - as well as someone from Children's Services, the Deputy Director and your immediate superior in the Wards. However, we've now gotten all that in order. So we can ask you the questions."  
  
The silence that followed the statement lengthened, until Mitch realised he was expected to say something. "So ask."  
  
One of the PRT officers took a sheet of paper from his briefcase. He also placed a digital recorder on the table and pressed a button; it showed a red LED. "This session is being recorded with the knowledge of all in this room. My name is Frank James, I hold the rank of captain in the Parahuman Response Teams, and today's date is the thirteenth of April, two thousand and eleven. I am here to ask certain questions of Panorama, self-identified as Mitchell Biron, a member of the Wards program, East-North-East. Mitchell Biron, could you please identify yourself for the recording?"  
  
Mitch took a deep breath, trying to stop himself from shaking. "My name is Mitchell Biron, also known as Panorama," he stated clearly. "I have been a member of the Wards since two thousand and nine. Now could someone  _please_  tell me what in God's name is going on here?"  
  
Captain James nodded. "Very well, Mitchell. Last night, the PRT got a call from a young lady by the name of Miranda Frost. Do you know this person?"  
  
Mitch shook his head. "Uh, no," he replied. "I don't know who that is."  
  
James nodded. "Ms Frost alleged that someone called Mitchell Biron engaged her in, uh, adult activities last night, and proceeded to tie her up and ..."  
  
He paused, apparently in an attempt to word the statement in a way that would not offend Mitchell, when Oversight broke in.  
  
"Wait a minute!" she burst out. "Uh, sorry, Oversight, for the Wards. When is this supposed to have happened?"  
  
James turned to look at her. "Miss, I am asking the questions here. Kindly refrain from interjecting."  
  
Oversight shook her head. "You don't understand. I was  _with_  Mitch, in the Wards base until his bedtime. So were the other Wards. We can all verify that."  
  
James blinked. "Very well. When is his bedtime?"  
  
"Ten o'clock," piped up Mitchell.  
  
James rubbed his chin. "The call from the lady came in at eleven fifty PM. The incident could still have happened any time before then."  
  
"But I didn't  _go_  out last night," Mitch pointed out. "I don't know this Miranda lady, and I wouldn't - I don't - I've never -" He broke off, blushing heavily.  
  
"Would never  _what?_ " asked the other PRT officer sharply. "Sorry. Lieutenant Harold Keene, PRT. Mitchell, you were saying you would never do what?"  
  
Mitchell shook his head, still blushing. "This is about sex things, isn't it?" he asked. "I've never done that."  
  
Captain James nodded slowly. "Well, every impression I am getting is that you have no inclinations in that direction, Mitchell," he agreed. He turned to Overwatch. "Were  _any_  of your Wards out last night?"  
  
Overwatch and Mitchell looked at each other, and Overwatch put her face in her hands. "Oh goddamn fuck," she muttered. "Sorry, sorry. Paladin brought it to me this morning. I should have reported it then."  
  
"Brought what to you?" asked James. "Should have reported what?"  
  
Overwatch met his eyes. "One of my Wards  _was_  out last night, as you would have found out if you'd  _just asked me the goddamn question_. Shadow Striker. And when he came back - after Mitch had gone to bed - Paladin noted ... skeevy emotions coming off of him. Nasty stuff. Looking at me, and at our new recruit, a girl called Buzz."  
  
James frowned. "Can these ... emotional impressions ... be recorded, or experienced by anyone other than Paladin?" he asked.  
  
Overwatch shook her head. "But I don't think she'd lie about something like that. She lay awake half the night before coming to me about it."  
  
"And the most important thing," James persisted, "does Shadow Striker know Panorama's real name?"  
  
Overwatch nodded. "Yeah. We all know each others' names. We generally go masks-off in the base."  
  
Piggot pinched the bridge of his nose. "Christ," he muttered. "Shadow Striker's what, fifteen? Sixteen?"  
  
"Fifteen, I think," supplied Overwatch.  
  
"So, another minor." He heaved a sigh. "I think this interview is over, Captain James. Don't you?"  
  
James nodded. "Thank you, Mitchell, and Oversight, for your assistance in this matter. Recording ends now." He turned it off.  
  
"Well, _this_  is a fuckup of epic proportions," muttered the Deputy Director. Mitchell hid a grin; Renick was not prone to mincing her words.  
  
Piggot dusted his hands off. "Okay. We need to set this up all over again, this time for Shadow Striker. Contact parents, give them time to scare up an attourney, et cetera, et cetera. All the while, doing our best not to spook the kid, in case he really is the one we're after, and does a bolt."  
  
Overwatch put her hand on Mitchell's shoulder. "You did good, kid. I was in the Director's office when you made that phone call. Kept your head. I'm proud of you."  
  
Jumping up from his chair, he abruptly hugged her. "Thanks for being here, and thanks for saying what you did," he told her, after they separated.  
  
She smiled and ruffled his hair. "Anything for my Wards. Don't ever forget that."  
  
He grinned. "I won't. Uh, do I have to go back to school now?"  
  
His father shook his head. "No, Mitch. Your mom and I already got the day off work. Why don't we go to the Boardwalk or something, make it an afternoon off?"  
  
"Can I?" He glanced back at Oversight and the Deputy Director.  
  
They both nodded; Oversight raised a finger. "Just keep your Wards comm on you." She handed it to him. "Just in case we need you."  
  
He nodded and pocketed it. As he walked from the room with his parents, he wondered what had happened to the lady they were talking about. Then he wondered if he really wanted to know.  
  
 _Probably not._  
  


\o\

  
With ten minutes to go from the end of the last lesson, Taylor felt her Wards comm buzz discreetly. Glancing at it - Mrs Quinlan had just left the room, probably for good - she read the message.  
  
 _Getting out early. Want to go patrolling before we hit the base? - Shadow Striker_  
  
Other kids were already getting up and drifting out; it wasn't as if she couldn't do it also. So she typed a quick message in reply.  
  
 _Sure. Where do you want to meet? - Buzz_


	5. "Bug control, asshole."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor proves more than a match for Shadow Striker. The Undersiders make another appearance.

_"Sir, we've made a sweep of the school, and he's not there."_  
  
Piggot slammed his fist on to his desk. "Well,  _find_  him!"  
  
Overwatch, standing at attention on the other side of the desk, cleared her throat. Piggot glared at her. "Do you have something to say?"  
  
She nodded. "Yes, sir. Buzz goes to the same school. She's got a massive range with her bugs. Two blocks at least. If anyone can locate Shadow Striker in that area, she can."  
  
Director Piggot blinked. "Well, why didn't you say so. Contact her at once." He spoke into the receiver again. "We're enlisting our latest recruit in the search, Lieutenant. We'll get her to coordinate with you. Also, can you get a ping off of Striker's Wards comm?"  
  
 _"Uh, he seems to have it turned off, sir."_  
  
"The locator chip? Can't that be activated remotely?"  
  
 _"No, sir. He's turned his comm off."_  
  
"I swear, if one of you tipped him off prematurely -"  
  
 _"Sir, no, sir. We followed procedure."_  
  
"For your sake, I hope that's not what set him off." Piggot glared at Overwatch. "Well?"  
  
"Sending the message now, sir," she replied.  
  
 _Buzz - Overwatch. Pls locate Shadow Striker and report same. Urgent. Do not approach._  
  
A reply popped up almost immediately.  
  
 _With SS. ?? - Buzz_  
  
Overwatch gritted her teeth.  _Information. Information._  
  
Throwing caution to the winds, she typed out the next message.  
  
 _Shadow Striker, aka Sonny Hess, is wanted for questioning in relation to a rape that occurred last night. Use extreme caution. He is highly dangerous. Report location at once. - Overwatch_  
  
She waited.  
  
There was no answer.  
  
She became aware of her knuckles becoming white as she gripped her comm.  
  
Still no answer.  
  
"Sir," she forced out through unwilling lips, "please ping Buzz's comm. I think she may be in danger."  
  


\o\

  
Sonny wasn't sure why his sister Teri had sent him the text, but it had gotten his attention.  
  
 _PRT wants to talk to you. Sounds serious._  
  
Immediately, he had gotten up and ducked out of class. On the way out of school, on a whim, he had texted Buzz.  _One last fuck-you to the Wards. Maybe I can use her as a hostage, or just have some fun with her before I go._  A little to his surprise, she had agreed to meet him, and at a relatively close location.  _Does she go to Winslow too? Huh._  
  
So now he was waiting on a rooftop not all that far away from Winslow. He spotted a grey and black figure sneaking through an alley and heading for the fire escape, and grinned.  _I can't believe she actually turned up._  
  


/o/

  
Taylor climbed the fire escape; she was almost at the top when the message came through on her comm. As she stepped over the edge of the roof, she tapped out a reply.  _What's this about?_  
  
"Hey," Shadow Striker greeted her. "You go to Winslow too?"  
  
"Uh -" replied Taylor cautiously, then her comm buzzed again. With growing horror, she read the message, then stared at Shadow Striker.  
  
"What's the message?" he asked casually.  
  
"Just a routine check," she replied, trying for the same air of casualness. She began to tap out a reply, then gasped as something smashed it from her hand; looking up, she saw that Shadow Striker - Sonny - had both his crossbows pointed at her. One was loaded; the other was not. The arrow, she noted absently, was razor-tipped.  _Surely they don't let him use arrows like that in the field._  
  
"What the fuck?" she demanded.  _Buy time, buy time._  At her command, a swarm began to gather.  
  
"Sorry," he told her lightly. "Can't afford to let you tell the Pigman where I am. See, I'm the one with the weapon and you're not. That makes you what we call in the trade a 'hostage'. So get down on your knees and put your hands behind your head."  
  
The swarm still hadn't built to the size that she wanted. "Or what?"  
  
His voice lost its bantering tone. "Or I shoot you now, you fucking stupid cunt. Fuck, you're a moron."  
  
Her mind seemed to be racing along several parallel tracks. "You - you  _did_  rape that woman."  
  
He did something to his empty crossbow, and now it had an arrow in it. "Guilty."  
  
Things were coming together. "Sonny - you were one of the ones who raped  _me!"_  Nausea flared in her gut.  
  
He stared. "Wait, what?"  _Tall, skinny, curly brown hair -_ "Fuck, you're  _Taylor Hebert?"_  
  
"It took me a month to learn how to walk out of the house without collapsing into a heap, you son of a bitch," she growled. "But I got better. And guess what. I got powers. You can't hurt me, not ever again."  
  
"I beg to differ." He waved a crossbow. "Now. On your knees. Or I'll gut shoot you."  _This changes things. Now I really have to have her before I leave town._  He thought about it.  _I'll be killing her anyway, so may as well have a good time before she goes._  
  
He expected her to make a bolt for the fire escape, or maybe do what he told her. The last thing he expected was for her to make a charge  _at_  him. Toward two loaded crossbows, at point-blank range.  
  
He triggered one, aimed at centre mass.  _Oh well, nice knowing you._  The other was more hastily aimed, but it still flew true, at her face.  
  
The first one hit her right in the kill-zone; where it struck, it had the choice of heart, lungs, several other vital organs. In his imagination, she was already flat on her face, life draining out of her.  
  
But she wasn't. The arrow struck, but failed utterly to penetrate. The second hit her raised arm at an angle, and the razor point seemed to slither off the material of her costume; it vanished over the side of the roof.  
  
" - the fu -" he managed, just before she tackled him, and slammed him to the roof. Abruptly, he recalled that he could turn to shadow, and he did, flickering into insubstantiality and reforming a yard or so away. She was still on her hands and knees; he kicked her brutally in the ribs. The breath  _whooshed_  out of her, and she fell to the roof, curling around her stomach.  
  
Panting, he kicked her again, this time in the face. One of those creepy-as-fuck yellow goggle lenses shattered. He grinned.  _Fuck. You._  
  
Holstering his crossbows and taking one of his razor-tipped arrows, he reached down and pulled her head up by the hair. "Okay," he gritted. "Take that fucking stupid costume off right now. Or I -"  
  
She swung her arm around; the arrow that had stuck in her armour panel, and then fallen to the roof when he kicked her was now in her fist. He reacted too slowly, and the viciously barbed head buried itself in his calf.  
  
"FUCK!" he screamed, releasing her and falling backward. He went shadow for a moment; when he reformed, he was kneeling, holding the bloodied arrow in his free hand. "You fucking bitch," he growled. "I'm gonna kill you slow for that."  
  
She forced herself up, against the pain in her gut where he had kicked her. "You have -" she broke off, coughing.  
  
He dropped the arrow, drew the crossbow, lined it on her. "What?"  
  
She drew a deep breath, stronger now. "You have no idea what you're fucking with."  
  
He tilted his head. "You're fucking crazy."  
  
Her voice was full of savage satisfaction.  _"Bug control,_  asshole."  
  
And then the swarm arrived.  
  


\o\

  
They poured over him, covering every inch of his body with scratching, clawing, biting, stinging bodies. He screamed; bugs made their way into his throat. He went insubstantial; some went to shadow form with him. When he reformed, several yards away, they were still with him, still biting, stinging.  
  
And Taylor was there, on her feet. She kicked him as hard as she could, between the legs. He gasped, spitting out bugs through the hockey mask, and went to the rooftop. Then he went shadow again. The swarm swooped through the shadow again and again, the sheer mass of bugs disrupting him, tiny stings applied to his very being.  
  
He reformed; she tackled him backward, punching, clawing, scratching. She ripped his mask off, and headbutted him inexpertly; it hurt both of them, but he took the worst of it. He retaliated by jamming a thumb through the smashed goggle lens and into her eye. She twisted away, and kneed him in the groin again. They fell backward on to the fire escape, and tumbled down the metal steps, punching and gouging at one another.  
  
Halfway down, he went to fog once more, but the swarm was there; it filled his very being with tiny buzzing bodies, disrupting him painfully. He came back to reality, down on the ground. A second later, Taylor launched herself off the fire escape, aiming for him. He whipped up a crossbow, arrow loaded, tracking on her eye. The string snapped forward, launching the deadly missile. Bugs on the shaft gave her the exact point of aim for the arrow; she twisted in midair, and it struck her cheekbone a glancing blow, skimmed off.  
  
She landed on him, a crushing impact. Her costume was designed to deal with penetrating attacks, less so for falls and kicks; the wind was driven from her. But he suffered also, was driven to the ground. She tried to knee him a third time, but he blocked it with his thigh. Bugs were crawling all over him, but still he fought back grimly. An arrow was in his hand; he stabbed at her ribs, her back. The point gouged into her through the costume, not penetrating, but still breaking the skin, leaving bruises.  
  
He grabbed her and rolled her off of him; got on top. A vicious punch shattered her other goggle lens. She couldn't see, she was pinned, unable to force him off. Nausea rose in her throat. He had her, she could not fight back. Her bugs still swarmed him, but he kept his eyes slitted, one hand over his mouth and nose. She could not fight effectively; memories of that day, months ago, kept intruding.  
  
And then darkness fell.  
  
Atop her, Sonny froze.  
  
She heaved convulsively, threw him off. Got on top of him. Located his face with her bugs, and punched him. Sobbing. Again and again. Her fists pummeled against his face. She felt his nose break. She kept hitting him. He stopped struggling.  
  
The darkness faded away, and she was aware of people standing nearby. Not the Wards.  
  
She became aware that she had an arrow in her hand, and it was pressed against Sonny's throat. All she would have to do was apply a little more pressure ...  
  
A hand on her shoulder. She looked up. Through the blurry tears, and the lack of corrective lenses, she saw a tall dark shape. A name filtered through her consciousness.  _Ghast._  
  
"Not like that," the older girl told her gently. "He deserves punishment, sure. But not like that."  
  
"You don't know," sobbed Taylor. "You don't know what he did to me. You don't know how much he deserves this."  
  
Ghast nodded. "Yes," she murmured. "Yes, I do." She squatted next to Taylor. "He tried to rape me, once. I got away. But he put a crossbow arrow into me. I nearly died." She unzipped her jacket, guided Taylor's hand to a spot on her stomach. Taylor's fingers felt a ridged scar. "So yes, I know what he's like. I know what he's done. He deserves punishment. But if you do this, it will be over your head forever."  
  
Another figure stepped forward. "It's me, Insight."  
  
Taylor nodded. "I remember you." Her hands were shaking now, and she had to work not to plunge the arrow into Sonny's throat, even by accident.  
  
"Yeah, I know," the boy told her. "I saw what had happened to you. I figured out what was going on with Shadow Striker. That's how we knew to come here. This is your crisis point, Taylor."  
  
She didn't even question how he knew her name. "What's it to you?" she demanded. "What's Sonny done to you?"  
  
She sensed through her bugs that he was shaking his head. "Nothing. But he's done this to you. And I wouldn't blame you if you did take your revenge. But you're better than that. I know you're better than that. And ... " He paused.  
  
"And what?" she demanded.  
  
"And I was wondering if we could go on a date sometime. Just two friends on opposite sides of the fence. Finding out about each other. No strings attached. And it's really hard to go on dates with superheroes who are wanted for murder. It gets all complicated."  
  
His tone was light, bantering, but she sensed the sincerity of his words. He honestly wanted to get to know her.  _He's just a nice guy. I didn't know that there were any of those around any more._  
  
She looked down; Sonny was aware now, looking up at her, eyes filled with ... she couldn't see properly, even at this range, but it seemed like fear.  
  
Taking a deep breath, she made her decision.  
  


/o/

  
She sat in the back of the ambulance, a blanket over her shoulders, as the PRT troops loaded a thoroughly restrained Sonny into a van. Overwatch stood by her, one hand on her shoulder. "How are you feeling?" she asked.  
  
Taylor shrugged, a little painfully. "I've been better. Bruised. Cut. But good." She looked around; the Undersiders, she knew, would be nearby, but keeping discreetly out of the way.  
  
Overwatch sat beside her. "I hope this hasn't put you off the Wards. Your first big capture being one of our own, and all."  
  
Taylor shook her head. "No. The rest of you are great. It was just ... him."  
  
"Yeah. And if you'll have us, we'll have you."  
  
"Thanks." Taylor closed her eyes and leaned against the older Ward. "It's over. It's finally over."  
  
Overwatch put an arm around her and squeezed affectionately. "Yeah. Now we can start fresh."  
  
Under her mask, Taylor smiled.  _Starting fresh._  It sounded so attractive.  
  
 _I might even take Insight up on that offer of a date, sometime._  
  


\o\

  
Emmet Barnes looked up at the tap on the door of his room. "Yeah?"  
  
"Emmet, it's Mom. Can you come out here for a moment?"  
  
Shrugging, he got off the bed, and opened the door. Outside, flanking his mother, were two police officers. "Emmet Barnes?" one asked.  
  
"Uh, yeah, that's me."  
  
"We'd like you to come down to the station with us, please."  
  
"What's this about?" But he already knew. He could read it in their eyes.  
  
 _Fuck._  
  
He didn't resist at all as they put the cuffs on him.


	6. Trust Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor has problems with not being fully trusted by the Wards; she beats up on Insight a bit.

“But I could have  _helped!”_  Taylor insisted. “Why didn't you call me in?”  
  
Paladin sighed as Caduceus wrote on the whiteboard. She put an arm around Taylor's shoulders and guided her away from the main group.  
  
“Overwatch  _wanted_  to,” she explained in a low tone. “But you've only just joined the Wards, and you've encountered the Undersiders twice that we know of, in a very short time, and both times you've parted ways with them amicably. That puts a question mark in your file about your association with them.”  
  
Taylor blinked, behind her mask lenses. “So … you don't trust me, then?” she asked. “Fuck. You don't  _trust_  me.”  
  
Paladin shook her head. “No. I trust you.  _We_  trust you. It's just that … they saved your life once, maybe twice. We didn't want you getting into a situation where you might be forced to choose which side to take.”  
  
Taylor had to stop and think about that.  
  
When she had first met the Undersiders, even though Bastard was standoffish and Regal was faintly mocking, she had felt that Ghast was at least willing to be polite, and Insight had been … understanding.  
  
During their second meeting, Ghast had shown fellow-feeling regarding Sonny, while Insight had actually suggested going on a date. She wasn't sure if he'd been joking, or if he actually meant it, but she understood all too well exactly how big a mistake the two of them had prevented her from making.  
  
 _Do I like them?_  
  
Being honest with herself, she had to admit that yes, she did like them as people. They were no worse than many people she knew, the Wards included, and much better than some.  
  
 _Do I like them enough to be disloyal to the Wards, if I had to choose between them?_  
  
That was a much tougher one.  
  
She  _liked_  the Wards; while she thought that they should have noticed what Sonny was doing much earlier, the fact remained that  _she_  had thought he was charming, despite the warning to be careful of him. Also, the Wards were genuinely nice to her; Overwatch was caring and considerate, Paladin was just as thoughtful as her name suggested, Victory Girl only ignored her when she was doing Tinker stuff (and, to be fair, she ignored  _everyone_  then), Timesnatch was friendly to her, and Panorama went out of his way to be nice. Headstrong was polite, but in a kind of mechanical way, as if the bulkier girl were working down a menu of social interactions; Taylor got the impression that she preferred her own company to that of others.  
  
On the other hand, the Undersiders had stepped in, not once but twice, to save her life, or at least prevent severe injury coming to her. The second time, they had also ensured that she didn't do anything that she would later regret. She understood that, she really did; she just wished that she didn't regret  _not_  doing something more permanent than just beating him bloody.  
  


<><>

  
Paladin watched her perceptively, saying nothing. Her emotion sense was working, of course. She couldn't really shut it down. Sometimes that was helpful, most times it was mildly annoying. Occasionally, she was able to focus past it, to let it fade into the background of her perceptions, but if she encountered someone displaying strong emotions (and most days it was 'when', not 'if') she could not help but pay attention.  
  
The emotions coming off of Buzz were … conflicted. She was unhappy, and a little insulted, that they had chosen not to call her in for the bank job. She'd been angry, earlier, but this had given way to resignation. Resignation and … relief?  _Why is she relieved?_  
  
“If I'd been there,” Buzz stated at last, “maybe they wouldn't have won. Maybe they wouldn't've gotten away.”  
  
Paladin scratched the back of her neck. “Maybe, maybe not,” she allowed. “Bug control is powerful, we both know that. But they had a Master, two Breakers, a Thinker and a Changer on site.”  
  
Buzz's head came up. “I don't think I met the Changer. The others, I have.”  
  
“Well then,” Deanna noted, “if you can put anything on the board about the other four, it would be a great help.”  
  
“I guess,” Buzz agreed. “I didn't really see their powers in action. Except that Insight always seemed to know all the details. Even the ones that he shouldn't.”  
  
Deanna nodded. “Go look at the board. See if there's anything that anyone else left out.”  
  
“Okay.” Buzz headed that way.  
  
As she went, Deanna noted that her emotions seemed to be flattening out, into determination and a tinge of regret.  
  
 _I wonder what that's about._  
  


<><>

  
Caduceus was just stepping away from the board when Taylor got there. She'd never met him face to face before, of course, but she knew of him.  
  
Caduceus, along with Glorian, Protector and Laserguy, was a member of the younger generation of the avante-garde superhero team called New Wave. Ten years ago, the founding members had unmasked, gone public with their identities, in what some called a misguided attempt to make superheroes more identifiable with the public. After the untimely death of her boyfriend Fleur-de-Lys, Starlight had quit the team, leaving Duellist, Bombshell, Blazer and Grrl Power to carry it on. Few had chosen to follow their lead; unwritten rules or no, there were still those who would go after a cape's family or friends, given the opportunity.  
  
While the more well-known Glorian's costume more closely resembled something that might be worn by the hero of a space opera, all white trimmed with gold, Caduceus was more down to earth. Here in the base, he was wearing a long white lab coat over street clothes; the eponymous symbol was embroidered on the pocket of the coat, and stencilled on the back. He also sported goggles, usually pushed up on his forehead, as they were now; while the PHO boards occasionally speculated on the subject, no-one really knew what was up with that.  
  
As Taylor passed him by, she was struck by how ordinary he looked. For the city's premier healer – probably the country's, for that matter – he didn't have anything special in looks or presence. Curly brown hair, a smattering of freckles, an average build; he looked about Taylor's age or just a little older. She did notice that his lips were compressed slightly, his shoulders were a little hunched. She didn't know what was bothering him, and didn't know how to find out.  
  
Putting the matter out of her mind, she scanned over the board. There wasn't much she could find fault with, although some of the things she had noted herself were marked as queries; she took the eraser and removed the question marks.  
  
The last column interested her the most; it concerned the Undersiders' latest member, an apparent Case 53 called Network. His ability seemed to be that he could grow extrusions from his body that split into finer and finer filaments, spreading over a wide area. In that area, he apparently knew everything that was going on.  
  
Denise, wearing Carolina's costume, stepped up alongside her. “That bastard was too damn creepy,” she confided.  
  
“What, Network?” asked Taylor.  
  
Timesnatch nodded. “He could send those filaments under our costumes, even into our eyes and mouths. And when I tried to freeze him, I didn't realise how many filaments I had on me. When I froze him, I trapped myself and Headstrong at the same time.”  
  
Taylor shuddered. Extensions of her foe moving inside her clothing … that had horrifying implications. Especially for her. She wrapped her arms around herself, but could not prevent the shiver.  
  
Timesnatch was looking at her oddly. “Are you okay?”  
  
She didn't have time to answer; Paladin was at her side, guiding her away from the group, before she could formulate a response.  
  
“Where are we going?” Taylor asked, as Paladin punched the button to open the doors out of the Wards area.  
  
“Roof,” Deanna answered succinctly. “It's isolated and we can talk there without being overheard.”  
  
 _Talk?_  Taylor felt herself starting to panic, just a little. She really, really wasn't sure she wanted to talk about anything, especially not with the Wards.  
  
“But I don't want to -” she began.  
  
“Then don't,” Paladin told her. “I'll talk, you can listen.”  
  
By this time, they were at the lift; as she had said, Paladin punched the button for the roof.  
  


<><>

  
The elevator made short work of the distance from the Wards' sub-basement to the top of the building. Paladin didn't speak, and Taylor didn't know what to say. Her mind was still churning, still lurching off balance, from the sudden influx of emotion.  
  
Out on the roof, they walked across the helipad, to the far side. They couldn't sit on the edge, because of the barrier in the way, but there were chairs here, and so Paladin sat on one, and Taylor on another.  
  
“Something hit you really hard, down there,” Deanna began quietly. “Something very personal. Do you have a relationship with any of the Undersiders? Are you friendly with them?”  
  
 _I thought I wanted to be, maybe._  
  
Taylor shook her head. “I've only met them a couple of times. Except for the one called Network.” Her voice choked up, halfway through the name.  
  
“He's the one who's bothering you?” Paladin asked gently.  
  
Taylor nodded, her arms tight around her body. She was shaking hard, now.  
  
Reaching out, Paladin gathered her into a hug. Taylor didn't resist. Pulling her mask off, she buried her face in Paladin's shoulder.  
  
“Taylor ...” Paladin asked very gently, “did someone do something to you?”  
  
The story came out, between bursts of sobbing. Taylor was actually doing quite well now; she didn't throw up at all, and she was able to speak coherently. She described the bullying, the ambush and the rape.  
  
“When I came to, after, I had my powers,” she shakily explained. “Mom screamed at the school until they paid for my counselling. I still go, Wednesdays and Fridays. It helps.”  
  
“And it was Shadow Striker, all this time,” breathed Paladin. “Fuck, that explains so much. Christ, I'm such a fucking moron.”  
  
“It's not your fault,” Taylor insisted. “You couldn't know.”  
  
“But if I had known, that other woman wouldn't have gotten raped,” Paladin told her. “I'm so sorry, Taylor. So sorry.”  
  
Taylor shook her head, letting Paladin rock her gently from side to side. “You didn't do it. And you did point it out when you saw it. And got warning to me in time.”  
  
Deanna squeezed her gently. “So, how did it feel to beat his face in?”  
  
Taylor giggled weakly through her tears. “I wish I could do it all over again.”  
  
Paladin took a deep breath. “So … Network.”  
  
Taylor nodded. “The idea of someone who can so casually violate me like that … I don't know that I can face him. I really can't.”  
  
Paladin shrugged. “So mob him with bugs from outside his area of effect.”  
  
“I dunno,” Taylor murmured. “I'm told that the 'mob them with bugs' tactic isn't so popular with the higher-ups.”  
  
Paladin snorted. “If it works, do we care?” She stood up. “Ready to come back down?”  
  
Taylor nodded and stood as well. “Thanks, Deanna,” she told the older girl. “I really appreciate you spending the time to help me out.”  
  
“You're welcome,” Paladin told her. “Wards gotta help Wards.”  
  
Taylor pulled her mask back on. “Well, I'm glad I'm in the Wards, then.”  
  
Paladin put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “So am I.”  
  
Together, they headed back across the helipad toward where the lifts were.  
  


<><>

  
Taylor left the PRT base in a contemplative mood. She didn't want to go home; not quite yet. So she took the bus – one left every five minutes from in front of the base – to the Brockton Bay Public Library.  
  
The library was an echo of times long gone, of an era of prosperity for the city. Polished wood, arched ceilings, and softly lit chandeliers made it a haven from the chaos outside. She made her way to the computers; just as she got there, someone got up from one at the end, so she immediately sat down at it.  
  
Logging on to the PHO boards, she looked up the Undersiders. If and when she met them again, she wanted to know who and what she was dealing with.  
  
The information she found was frustratingly incomplete, and had even less detail than had gone up on the board in the Wards' base. No doubt, she mused, that information would make it on to this site eventually, but it would take time.  
  
Sighing, she was just about to click on to the forums proper, to see what they were saying about the bank robbery, when an alert popped up. A private message, directed to her newly-created “Buzz” account.  
  
 _What the hell? This is the first time I've ever used it._  
  
Frowning, she clicked it open.  
  
 _ **Buzz. Love to meet and talk, if you're interested. Is.**_  
  
Her eyes widened. _He can't be serious._  
  
She typed out a quick reply.  _What the hell? Why?_  
  
The reply came back rapidly.  _ **Just want to meet and talk.**_  
  
 _They know I've met you. Robbing that bank screwed with my credibility._  
  
 _ **I know. I'm sorry. Kind of why I want to meet.**_  
  
 _I'm not sure that I ever want to see you again._  
  
 _ **Just once? Please?**_  
  
 _So long as you come alone. Bring no-one else. Especially not …_ She couldn't even bring herself to type the name 'Network'.  _… your latest member._  
  
 _ **Okay. Where do you want to meet?**_  
  
That was it? 'Okay'?  
  
 _Boardwalk. One hour._  
  
 _ **Cool. I'll find you.**_  
  
Taylor shut down the session and sat back.  _Now what does he really want?_  
  
She decided to think about it on the bus.  
  


<><>

  
**One Hour Later; the Boardwalk**  
  
“Buzz?”  
  
Taylor turned around, at the low-voiced question. The boy who stood before her  _could_  be Insight; he was the right height and had the same hair, although now it was combed straight back and gathered in a short ponytail. However, she wouldn't have picked him; he had freckles, that were obviously normally hidden by his mask, and his posture was all different.  
  
She hadn't done much to change her appearance, other than stop at home and grab a pair of sunglasses that fitted over her normal glasses.  
  
“Insight?” she responded cautiously.  
  
He grinned; that carefree expression nailed it for her. “Got it in one. Glad you could make it.”  
  
She moved fast; faster than she had thought herself capable. Her hand lashed out, and her palm impacted his cheek with a ringing  _smack._  
  
Slowly, he raised his hand to touch the stinging mark. “Ouch.” Significantly, he didn't ask what he'd done to deserve that.  _Oh, you know why._  
  
“Is that all you've got to say for yourself?” She was quite proud of the control she had over her voice. There was hardly any loathing in there at all.  
  
He blinked a couple of times. “Uh, I'm sorry, I know why you're mad, but I really didn't mean to hurt you?” He deliberately turned his face so that his other cheek was presented to her. “But, you know, if you want to hit me again, feel free.”  
  
For a long moment, she was tempted. He didn't flinch, but she could see him bracing himself. But again, she managed to control her temper.  
  
“Okay, fine,” she growled. “I'm here. So what did you want to say in public that you couldn't say online?”  
  
“That I'm sorry,” he told her sincerely. “I'm really sorry that you got in trouble. We didn't mean for it to happen that way. Our boss gave orders to rob that bank, so we did. But it wasn't personal; we're villains, so we did it.”  
  
She felt the anger leaching out of her; as far as she could tell, he really did mean it.  
  
“So what would you have done if I'd turned up to the bank?” she asked, curious.  
  
“Done my best not to go head to head with you,” he replied immediately. “And I would have kept Network away from you, too.”  
  
She glanced sharply at him; he looked back at her perceptively. “You know about that,” she realised.  _“How_  do you know about that?”  
  
“I make connections,” he explained. “I didn't really think you'd turn up, so I wasn't overly worried. But I didn't think about your feelings in the matter. Which was my bad.”  
  
She punched him in the shoulder. “Yes, it was. How do you think it feels, seeing the rest of the Wards come back, all beaten up, and I'm like, oh yeah, guys, I would have come out, but I'm not deemed fucking  _trustworthy_  enough.”  
  
He hunched his shoulders, looking at the ground, his grin dimmed. “I imagine it must feel pretty shitty.”  
  
Taylor punched him again, on the other shoulder, not softly. “You imagine pretty damn accurately.”  
  
He looked up at her. “You want to hit me again, or you done for the moment?”  
  
For a second, she considered hitting him again, just for asking the question, but then she sighed and plumped herself down on a bench. “No, we're good. Sit down, I'm not going to hit you any more. Much.”  
  
He half-smiled, then sat beside her, a decorous space between them. “So I've got to ask; I'm presuming you have a swarm somewhere, just in case this turned out to be a really stupid kidnap attempt.”  
  
Taylor raised an eyebrow. “You presume correctly. And I presume that you've got your fellow Undersiders, minus Network, around here somewhere, in case this was a really stupid attempt to capture you for the PRT.”  
  
He nodded. “Where have you got yours?”  
  
She grinned nastily. “Under the Boardwalk.”  
  
His eyes widened. “Where -”  
  
“Where you've got yours, yes,” she agreed. “Currently they're getting along. But I don't think anyone wants to start anything they can't finish, am I right?”  
  
Slowly, he nodded. “You're right. How many bugs do you have?”  
  
From under the Boardwalk, a voice echoed.  _“Too fucking many!”_  
  
Taylor smirked; after a moment, Insight grinned. “Ghast insisted. Said it was too risky, otherwise.”  
  
She couldn't help it; she started chuckling. “Risky, huh?”  
  
He constrained himself to a single snort. “Yeah. Risky.”  
  
Standing up from the bench, Taylor gestured. “Shall we walk?”  
  
He nodded and rose as well. “I think we shall.”  
  
They strolled on down the Boardwalk, side by side. For the first dozen yards or so, they didn't speak. Taylor appreciated the fact that Insight knew when not to talk, unlike some boys, who didn't seem to know when to shut up.  
  
When she figured they had gotten far enough away from listening ears, Taylor cleared her throat. “So, was that all you wanted to say to me?”  
  
He turned to look at her. “Not really,” he admitted. “When I saw you last … “  
  
“When I was beating the shit out of Sonny Hess, you mean,” Taylor corrected him.  
  
“Yeah, that,” he agreed cheerfully. “I mentioned the idea of getting to know you. Going on dates and things like that. I'm still interested, if you are.”  
  
She stared at him. “You can't be serious. I'm a hero; you're a villain!”  
  
He shrugged. “And? It's not like it's never happened before.”  
  
“What, really?” Taylor found that hard to believe. “Heroes and villains … “  
  
“Forming relationships, yes,” he confirmed. “Sometimes it happens after they clash a few times, and sometimes it happens when they meet in their civilian identities, and don't realise until after … “  
  
She could not hold back a chuckle. “Oh god, to be a fly on the wall when they figure it out.”  
  
He nodded, his grin widening. “Oh yeah. So, anyway. You know I'm a villain; I know you're a hero. I personally don't care in the slightest. I like you. You're tough, you've got style to burn, and … ”  
  
She gave him a hard stare. “I hope you're not just pulling a line to try to get into my pants. Because that is  _seriously_  not going to happen.”  
  
He shook his head vigorously. “No, really. I do like you. I'm willing to take it as slow as you like.”  
  
Her expression softened slightly. “Well, okay, then.” She tilted her head to one side. “You were going to say something else, just now, before I interrupted you.”  
  
He hesitated. “I … it's going to sound silly.”  
  
“Do you want me to hit you again?”  
  
Grinning, he raised his hands defensively. “Now your true colours come out, you big bully. No, it's just that … you kind of remind me of someone I once knew. Someone who needed my help. Who didn't get it in time.”  
  
She stopped, and looked at him. “Are you trying to pull the sympathy card on me?”  
  
He shook his head firmly. “No. I'd never dare.”  
  
“Well, that's okay then,” she noted. “You'll tell me about this person sometime?”  
  
A nod. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Sometime.” He paused. “Liam.”  
  
“What?” She was a little confused. “Liam what?”  
  
“It's my name.” He turned and met Taylor's gaze; she took off the sunglasses and returned the gaze. For the first time, she noticed that his eyes were a deep bottle-green in colour. Eyes she could lose herself in, if she wasn't careful.  
  
“You're giving me your real name.” It wasn't a question.  
  
“Because I trust you with it.” His voice was low, firm.  
  
She took a deep breath. “Taylor.”  
  
“Taylor?”  
  
She nodded. “Taylor.”  
  
He put out his hand. “I'm pleased to meet you, Taylor.”  
  
She grasped it, registering that this was the first time that they had made physical contact that wasn't her hitting him. “I'm pleased to meet you too, Liam.”  
  
The handclasp lingered, until she let go; he didn't try to hang on too long. Both of them put their hands back in their pockets.  
  
“So,” he suggested, as if they had not just swapped their secret identities.  _“Would_  you be interested in going to the movies with me?”  
  
She let him hang for a long, long moment. “Okay,” she agreed, then quickly added, “but I pay for my own ticket, and my own popcorn.”  
  
He nodded. “Okay.”  
  
“And we don't make out.”  
  
Another nod. “Okay.”  
  
“You'll be lucky if I even let you hold my hand.”  
  
He grinned. “Okay.”  
  
“So it won't even really be a date. Just two people going to the movies at the same time.”  
  
He seemed unfazed. “Sure.”  
  
“And you're okay with this?”  
  
He nodded. “I get to spend time with you? Definitely.”  
  
She eyed him. He seemed totally sincere. “I'll talk to you later. We'll make a time.”  
  
“That works for me,” he agreed.  
  
She tilted her head, pointed back down the Boardwalk. “So, you think I should let your friends go now?”  
  
“Yeah, any time now should be good.” He smiled at her. “It was nice meeting you, Taylor.”  
  
She smiled back, surprising herself. “You too, Liam.”  
  
“So, maybe Saturday then?”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “I said, we'll make a time. Don't push it.”  
  
He grinned. “Yes, ma'am.”  
  
She started off down the Boardwalk; he went in the opposite direction. About five yards on, she turned her head. He was watching her, and waved. She waved back, then moved on.  
  
The memory of his smile, so warm and unguarded, stayed with her all the way home.


	7. Much Ado About Dating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor seeks advice on her upcoming date ...

**Friday, April 14, 2011**

"You seem distracted, Taylor."

Glancing up, Taylor realised that she was playing with the ends of her hair. "Oh, sorry."

Mrs Hamilton smiled gently; she was an older lady, rather grandmotherly, with an unruffled nature and what Danielle Hebert would call a 'comfortable' figure. Taylor had found herself at ease with her after the second therapy session; she felt like the sort of person Taylor could confide anything to.

Well,  _almost_ anything. She had not yet told Mrs Hamilton of her powers, or that she had joined the Wards.  _She's got enough problems sorting out my **other**  issues._

"Is there something you would like to talk about?" Mrs Hamilton took a sip of her tea, deliberately giving Taylor time to think. Taylor appreciated it; she was always so patient, never pushing, never rushing.

"Yeah," she decided at last. "There is. I ... kind of met a boy."

One greying eyebrow raised slightly. "I'm assuming this boy is nice."

Taylor flushed slightly. "Yeah. I ... uh, he asked me on a date."

Both eyebrows went up this time. "Have you accepted?"

She shook her head. "That's the problem. He's nice, but ... "

"But there is what happened before, yes," Mrs Hamilton agreed. "You have trust issues, and that's very understandable. Perhaps even prudent."

"But I don't know what to  _do!"_  Taylor burst out. "He's nice, and I like him, and I've kind of accepted, but he's a  _boy ..."_

Mrs Hamilton lowered her glasses to look over them at her. "Taylor, are you asking me if you should go on this date? Or are you looking for reasons as to why you should not?"

"I don't  _know_ ," she confessed miserably. "I like him, and I don't want to hurt his feelings, but ... "

Mrs Hamilton nodded understandingly. "Well, the first thing you need to understand is that, no matter how nice he is to you, you are  _not_ obligated to go on a date with him. Nor, if you do go on that date, are you obligated to allow him to hold your hand, kiss you, or take any other liberties with you. Those are things that  _you and you alone_ are in control of. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Taylor replied slowly. "I already told him as much."

"Good," replied the therapist, her voice full of hearty approval. "The second thing you need to understand is that men are not mind readers. In fact, it is quite easy to confuse the poor dears. You must make your requirements absolutely clear to him; do not assume that he will simply know what you mean. In my experience, men respond best to clear and direct instruction. Sending him mixed signals can lead to confusion on his part and distress on yours."

"I ... don't think that will be a problem, here," Taylor told her. "He seems to understand me really well. Almost better than I know myself."

"Hm," she mused. "Interesting. Not impossible, but distinctly unusual. Well then. The next thing that you need to understand is that I  _cannot_  tell you whether or not to go on this date."

Taylor's heart fell. "You ... you can't?"

She snorted. "Of  _course_  not. I haven't even met the lad. I do consider it to be a promising sign, however; when we first began our sessions, you flinched every time the subject even came up. That you're even considering it shows just how much progress we've made together."

Taylor wrapped her arms around herself. “It's like you were telling me last week, about the difference between intellectual and emotional knowledge. Intellectually, I know I'm safe with him. Emotionally, I don't feel safe with  _any_  boy. And I don't want to go on this date if I'm going to be jumping every time he moves, but I don't want to  _not_  go on the date if, you know, it's going to be fun. Because fun hasn't been really high on my agenda recently.”

“Hm.” Mrs Hamilton's tone was approving. “You  _have_  been thinking about this.”

Taylor's was miserable. “It hasn't helped.”

“Might I make a suggestion, then?”

Taylor raised her eyes to meet the therapist's.  _“Please.”_

She smiled gently at Taylor. “Invite him home to meet your mother. Let her make the final judgement. Tell him that you're still deciding, but instead ask  _her_  what she thinks of him.”

Taylor blinked. “Uh … he'll probably know exactly what I'm up to.”

“And is he likely to be upset at this?” Her tone was amused. “Because if he is, you know that's a pretty definite sign.”

“Hmm.” The more Taylor thought about it, the more she realised how right Mrs Hamilton was.  _Liam will almost certainly realise what I'm doing, and he'll go along with it, just like he's gone along with everything else I told him._

 _But how will Liam get along with Mom?_  Taylor had no idea; he was charming to  _her,_  but her mother was older, more worldly-wise. If he was trying to pull the wool over Taylor's eyes, her mother would probably see it.

She hoped.

“Thanks,” Taylor stated. “I will.”

“Good,” replied Mrs Hamilton. “Now, about your nightmares.”

“They've been coming up less and less.” Taylor unwrapped her arms from her torso, relaxed somewhat, now that the awkward topic was dealt with. “Your mental preparation techniques have really been helping.”

“Have you been keeping a dream journal, like I asked?”

“Yes, I have,” Taylor replied, tugging a spiral-bound pad out of her pack. “Sometimes it's a bit hard to find pen and glasses at the same time, so my writing's a bit ragged, but you can just about make out most of it.”

Opening the pad and pushing her glasses up her nose, she began to read; Mrs Hamilton listened intently.

The therapy session proceeded apace.

\o\

“Hi, Taylor.”

“ _Liam! How did you know – oh, never mind.”_

Liam chuckled, leaning back on the sofa. Ghast and Regal were squabbling over the remote again – Ghast wanted to watch a kickboxing show, that being her thing, while Regal wanted a bodybuilding show, for the same reason – and they weren't paying attention to him. Bastard had gone out a while ago to take his dogs for a walk, while Network was in his room, but Liam couldn't see any of his filaments out in the living room; no-one was listening in on the call.

“So, I'm guessing you're calling up to talk about the date.”

“ _I … yes, I guess I am.”_  She paused.  _“You realise, if you act like this while we're watching the movie, it's going to be a really short date.”_

“Yeah, I've learned by now not to give spoilers. Being noogied by Ghast is no fun. She doesn't know her own strength.”

“ _Oh, good.”_  A pause.  _“Is there anything between you and her, or you and Regal? Because I don't want to step on any toes -”_

“Heh, no,” he assured her. “Ghast and I, we're just friends. Colleagues. And Regal … I'm not sure if she  _does_  relationships. There's nothing between any of us anyway. We've got too much in common, being part of the Undersiders, and not enough in common in any other meaningful way.”

He didn't add that, having been recruited more or less at gunpoint, he didn't want to be any more involved with his teammates than he absolutely had to. This was, he decided, something that Taylor didn't need to know.

“ _Oh. Good. Well, I've been thinking over the idea of a date, and I've had trouble reaching a definite decision on it.”_

“Yes?” he prompted. She wasn't about to just say no, he figured, but she was still uncomfortable with the idea of just jumping into a date, even though she liked him, so she had come to a compromise. However, it was probably a good idea to let her tell him, rather than lay it out in front of her.

“ _Yeah, I want you to meet Mom before we go any further. I think she'd be a lot happier with the idea of me going on a date if she could meet you.”_

“I'm presuming that she won't know of my allegiance?” he asked lightly. “Because that might well be the deal-breaker for her.” He knew full well that Taylor would be asking her mother for her judgement on him; it would be that which decided whether or not they went on a date or not.

“ _No, I wouldn't do that to you,”_ she assured him.  _“I'll just tell her you're someone I met. Let her form her own conclusions.”_

“That's fair,” he allowed. “So when do you want me to come over?”

She took a deep breath.  _“Can you come over tonight?”_

“We'll just be staying in, right? It won't really be a date, it'll just be a friend coming over?”

“ _Yeah,”_ she agreed.  _“Exactly.”_

“Sure,” he told her cheerfully. “I can definitely do that. Stay in, under the maternal eye, and watch movies and the like? Sounds like fun.”

“ _You know, you almost sound serious when you say that.”_

“I am serious. Fun isn't something you take lightly when you're in my line of work.”

“ _Good. Well … come over at six?”_

“I'll be there. See you then.”

“ _See you then. And … thanks.”_

“For what?”

“ _For putting up with me. For being a good sport.”_

“If anyone's putting up with anyone,” he told her, “it's you putting up with me. I'll see you tonight, Taylor.”

“ _See you tonight, Liam.”_

The phone went dead as she hung up. He put his own phone down, and looked around casually. The TV was now showing a mixed martial-arts tournament; Ghast was watching intently for, Liam knew, techniques she could borrow. Regal was just watching; she had a thing for beefcake, and while most MMA competitors were of the leaner, whipcord type, the guys were all still ripped enough to get her attention.

Liam glanced at the clock. “Bastard's been out for a while. Anyone heard from him?”

“Try his phone,” Ghast suggested absently, eyes fixed on the screen.

Liam tapped out the number from memory. It rang out, twice. Worry started uncoiling in his brain. “Guys, he's not answering. It's going straight to mail.”

Regal shrugged. “Bastard, not answering his phone? Unheard of, I tell you. Unheard of.”

Liam frowned. “Brianna, didn't you give him that phone yesterday?”

Ghast looked over at Liam, her attention finally captured from the TV. “Yeah, and it was charged up, too. You think something's wrong?”

“I don't know,” he confessed. “But he knew we'd be going to divide up the money today.”

“Well, you know he's not thrilled about you associating with a hero,” Regal supplied cheerfully. “He might just be walking it off.”

“Well, whatever it is,” Ghast decided, “we need to go deal with the cash. If Bastard hasn't met up with us by the time we get there, we'll just hold his share aside.”

“Minus ten percent needless bullshit drama tax,” Regal suggested.

Ghast's voice was firm. “No.”

“Aww. You're no fun.”

“Get costumed up.” The tall black girl glanced at Liam. “Go wake Network up. If something's up, we're going to need all hands on deck.”

Liam nodded. “Right.”

/o/

“So how did the therapy go?”

Taylor turned to look at her mother, in the driver's seat of the car. One of the concessions that she had gotten off of Winslow was that they would pay for a therapy session that would replace the first period of each Wednesday and Friday. Taylor would be supplied with class notes from each of those periods; it was up to her to keep up with the work.

“It was good,” she replied. “Mrs Hamilton says that I'm really making progress.”

Danielle reached across and held Taylor's hand for a moment. “That's really good, kiddo,” she told her daughter warmly. “I'm so pleased.”

Taylor took a deep breath. “In fact,” she went on, “I'm doing so well that I'd like to ask a really huge favour.”

Danielle flickered her eyes to Taylor for just a moment, then back to the road. “Is this connected in any way to the phone call you made before we left Mrs Hamilton's office?”

“Uh, just a bit,” she allowed, slightly nervously. “I, uh, kind of met a boy.”

Danielle's eyes opened a fraction wider than normal. “Go on,” she invited, after a moment.

“He's nice,” Taylor rushed on. “I like him. He's kind of asked me on a date.”

Her mother didn't respond at once; she checked around, hit the indicator, and pulled over. “Okay,” she told Taylor, once the car was stopped and the park brake set, “now I can give you my full attention. You've met a boy who's asked you on a date. I'm assuming you didn't turn him down flat.”

Taylor flushed. “No,” she mumbled, looking at the floor. “He's really nice.”

Reaching out, Danielle gently lifted Taylor's chin in her hand until she was looking at her mother. “This is good, really,” she told Taylor sincerely. “It's good that you're even considering the social side of life again. You're opening up, expanding your horizons.” She eyed her daughter carefully. “So what answer did you give him?”

Taylor shrugged. “I said 'maybe'. I told him that he could come over so you could meet him -”

“ - so I can decide whether or not I want him dating my daughter,” Danielle replied. “That's … sound, I guess.” She paused. “Wait,  _when_  was he coming over?”

“Uh … tonight?” Taylor ventured.

Danielle's eyes opened a good bit wider. “And you didn't think to mention this earlier? Like  _before_  inviting someone to our home?”

“I'm sorry,” Taylor told her. “It kind of slipped out, and by the time I said it, it was too late.”

A frown. “And when did this happen? Where did you meet him? I didn't think you liked anyone at Winslow.”

“He doesn't go to Winslow,” Taylor replied, then immediately wished that she hadn't.

“Oh?” asked her mother. “But … you've mainly been busy with … “ She paused. “Oh. Is he in the Wards?”

If there had been any more boys in the Wards than Panorama and Shadow Striker – not that  _he_  was going to be with them for much longer – Taylor might have let her keep thinking that. But given those two choices, that wasn't going to be an option.

“Uh, not in the Wards, no,” she replied hastily. “Another group. We teamed up for a bit.”  _Sort of. Kind of._

“Oh,” her mother replied, sounding intrigued. “I won't pry; I understand about secret identities and all that.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Taylor responded. “But yeah, if you could meet him and tell me what you think, after? I mean, I like him, and I kind of want to do this, but I've also got the other thing, that makes me not want to. And I trust your judgement.”

“Oh, honey,” Danielle told her daughter, “of  _course_  I will.” Putting an arm around Taylor's shoulders, she pulled her close enough to plant a kiss on top of her head. “So how long were you inviting him over for? And what's his name?”

“Uh, basically for the evening, if that's all right,” Taylor confessed. “And his name's Liam.”

Just saying the name conjured his face up in her mind; the long blond hair, the playful grin that could so easily turn mischievous, the ocean-deep bottle-green eyes.

_I want this to work._

Danielle nodded. “We can do that,” she agreed. “I'll be glad to meet him.”

Taylor leaned on her mother for a long moment. “Thanks, Mom,” she replied. “I appreciate it.”

A smile. “Well, I appreciate you letting me know about this before it happened. And I think it's a really good idea, inviting him over for the evening before you go out on a date.”

“Well, I don't want to just jump into it, but I don't want to  _not_  do it, you know?”

Danielle kissed the top of Taylor's head again, and squeezed her shoulders. “That's perfectly fine with me, kiddo. Now what say we get you to school?”

“Sure thing, Mom,” Taylor agreed. She sat back up and adjusted her seatbelt. “Thanks.”

“That's all right,” Danielle told her, as she guided the car out into traffic once more. “I -”

Whatever she was going to say next went by the wayside, as a phone rang from within Taylor's bag. Danielle frowned at the noise. “You've got a cellphone?” Taylor knew what she wasn't saying.  _After what happened to your father?_

“Wards issue,” Taylor explained, digging through the bag to find it. “They must want me for something.”

“Oh,” her mother replied. “That makes sense.”

Locating the phone, Taylor held it to her ear. “Buzz here. What's up?”

“ _What's up is that we're in trouble, and we could use any help we can get.”_

For a moment, she didn't recognise the voice, and then the penny dropped. “Liam?”

“ _The same,”_  he agreed.  _“I'm guessing that you're going from therapy to school, and that your mom's driving?”_  In the background, she heard a not-so-distant explosion.

"Uh, yes, but what was that?"

 _"That was Bakuda, doing what he does best,"_ Liam informed her grimly.  _"Creating explosions all over the landscape."_

"Bakuda?" Taylor repeated. She belatedly recalled Armsmaster's warning about the bomb Tinker. "Are you fighting Bakuda?  _Why_  are you fighting Bakuda?"

_"Long story short, he's pissed at how we took down Lung. Slightly longer story, Lung was after us for knocking over an ABB owned casino a few weeks ago, and after we took her down, Bakuda's decided to step up and do the job. Really short story, he's a raving nutbar."_

Taylor swallowed. "Wait. Go back. Bakuda's after you for taking down Lung?"

 _"Among other things, yes,"_  he agreed. There was a weird sound over the phone.  _"Shit!"_

"What? What happened?"

_"Network. He's not looking good. Bakuda just caught some of his tendrils in something that gave him massive feedback. Can you give us a hand? Please?"_

Taylordidn't have to think about it for very long. She'd  _been_  there when Lung was taken down, after all. She owed them her life. "Okay. Where are you?"

Liam gave her the location, and she turned to Danielle. "Mom, we need to make a detour. Liam's -"

"- fighting Bakuda, I know," her mother interrupted. "Which way do we need to go? You can give me more details on the way."

For a moment, Taylor stared, then another muffled explosion over the phone jolted her brain into gear. She gave her mother the address, and watched in amazement as Danielle rammed her foot to the floorboards, accelerating through the speed limit and beyond.

“Mom … “ she ventured, hating herself for saying it, but knowing she had to anyway. “About school … “

Her mother's voice was crisp. “What  _about_  school? You can't help your friends while you're sitting in a classroom, can you?”

“I … no, I guess not.”

“Then hang on. Is there anything you need to do to prepare?”

Taylor clung to the overhead handle as her mother skidded the car around a corner. “Uh, not really. I can shift bugs toward the area, but … “

“Then do it.” Danielle changed gears and put her foot down. The car's engine responded gamely, and the vehicle leaped forward. Taylor concentrated on all the bugs she could reach, sending them toward the area that Liam had mentioned; even as they slipped back out of her area of control, she knew that they would continue onward to their destination.

"And you're okay with me missing school?" she ventured.

"Not  _every_ day, kiddo," Danielle assured her. "But if I'm going to vet your friend, I'd rather he not die at the hands of a supervillain before I ever get to meet him."

Taylor felt warmth swelling in her heart. "Thanks, Mom. You have no idea how much I appreciate this."

Danielle changed down for a corner. "That's okay, honey. I've always wanted to be Miss Pennyworth."

"Huh?"

"Long story. Tell you later."

\o\

They were just half a block from the storage locker area when Taylor told her mother to pull over. As Danielle did so, Taylor put the phone back to her ear.

"Liam?"

_"Taylor? How far away are you?"_

"I'm here. And you're going to have to tell me how you managed to get my Wards number."

_"Later. It's kind of fraught here."_

And it was, too; there were odd areas where the bugs she sent either died, disappeared or sent back really weird sensory impressions. Liam was alive and, as far as she could tell, unhurt. He was supporting someone that Taylor tentatively identified as Network, and was accompanied by Ghast and Regal. Network seemed to be in a bad way, and the bugs smelled burnt hair or cloth off of the four of them.

Her bugs ranged farther afield, locating the ABB thugs, and a lot of people who didn't seem to be typical thugs; there were women and even children among them. But atypical or not, there were a lot of them.  _Where's ... ah._

Bakuda was standing in the passenger side of a jeep; he was holding himself upright via a hand on the windshield, as the vehicle rolled along between the lockers. As she watched via the senses of her bugs, he raised a hand-held grenade launcher, from the bulky feel of it, and fired a shot off almost at random. Elsewhere, some bugs died as the round detonated.

"Guys, make a hard right! They're almost on you!"

_"Shit, okay. Thanks."_

"Okay, right now they don't have line of sight on you. I'll try to keep it that way."

_"Any way you can distract 'em with bugs?"_

"Oh, I intend to do a lot more than  _that."_

Her bugs were now pouring into the area, and she split them up into their assigned tasks. She had every thug with a gun marked out by now, and bugs were crawling into their eyes and ears, and into the mechanisms of their firearms. She didn't consider herself to be any sort of gun expert, but having bugs wedge themselves into the working parts of a pistol had to do  _something._

At the same time, spiders were weaving cords of webbing, and other bugs were delivering them to their assigned targets. Taylor was holding off on the stinging and biting bugs until more of them were in position; she would not have put it past Bakuda to have something that would wipe them out, and in fact, the smoke was starting to hamper some of them.

All this time, she kept giving Liam instructions for dodging the ABB mooks, but as more of them moved around, swiping at the insects plaguing them, the windows of avoidance grew narrower. Still, her swarm was increasing, second by second; every minute that they could stay clear of Bakuda's men was a minute that she could use to prepare.

 _"If you're going to do something,"_ Liam told her tensely,  _"you'd better make it soon."_

"Trust me, I'm doing something," she assured him.

_"Oh shit, we're out of time."_

Taylor could see that; they had been herded into an alley with ABB in front and behind. The crowd before them parted, and Bakuda stepped out. The bomb Tinker posed for his minions, and launched into some sort of speech. She was glad that her bugs didn't let her hear voices that well.

"When I give the signal, run like hell."

_"Signal?"_

"You'll know it."

The speech seemed to be reaching a climax, going by Bakuda's gesticulations. Taylor gave the signal. Every bug that could bite someone, did so. Every bug that could carry a non-flying bug that could bite, did so. Those which had been a general irritant up until then, now became deadly serious, swarming into the eyes and ears of their victims. More flew into their mouths; not trying to choke them, but definitely causing respiratory distress. Wasps and hornets stung people on their wrists and fingers, causing most of them to drop their guns.

Liam got the signal, all right. Grabbing the others, he darted off down a side-alley, barely wide enough for single file. Network appeared to be bleeding; Ghast was helping him along. Only a few ABB guys even saw them go; of those that did, about three of them managed to get off a shot, or try to. One gun fired one bullet, which hit no-one that she was tracking; after that, it jammed solid.

Due to his gas mask, Bakuda was the only one who could see and hear and breathe properly, but that didn't last for long. Taylor had gathered all the tiny midges and other tiny flying bugs that she could, and positioned them around his face. All at once, they swarmed the mask, some working to wriggle under the edge of the mask, while others blocked the holes in the mesh that covered the breathing inlets.

Several dozen caterpillars in the area had given up their lives for the cause; dozens of bugs swarmed the gas-mask lenses, each bearing caterpillar bits, smearing the innards all over the glass. Taylor was kind of glad that she wasn't there, otherwise she might have been grossed out, just a little bit. When Bakuda reached up to wipe them clear, more bugs struck, tying cords around convenient attachment points. Following that, more caterpillar guts arrived, smeared over the meshwork that the tiny bugs were already clogging.

Bakuda couldn't see, and nor was his hearing that great; bugs were crawling into his ears, just as they were bothering his minions. Now that most of the minions were out of the fight, Taylor was vectoring more bugs toward the ABB cape. He was feeling his way back to the jeep; she considered this to be a bad thing. So she ramped up the stinging attacks on the few areas of Bakuda that were open to the air. He didn't like this; also, he was bringing up his left hand to rub at the gas mask, in an attempt to get more air through; although caterpillar guts do not an airtight seal make, they certainly help a lot.

Finally, he wrenched the gas mask off altogether and took a deep breath of what was, in the event, mainly bugs. Now that he was vulnerable, Taylor gave him the full Lung treatment; she couldn't let him recover for even a few seconds. She did her best not to put enough bugs down his throat to suffocate him, although she certainly ensured that he would have problems breathing properly. More bugs went into his eyes and nostrils, and the remaining venomous insects targeted his face.

Screaming, coughing and choking, he took hold of the grenade launcher with both hands and tried to lift it. It didn't want to lift; he yanked harder. Nothing doing. So he jerked upward with all of his strength. This time, the obstruction gave way, rather to Taylor's dismay.

“Oh, shit,” Taylor muttered out loud.

“Oh shit, what?” asked Danielle tensely.

“ _Oh shit, what?”_ Liam echoed.

“This might get loud.”

/o/

'Loud' was possibly not the word. 'Complicated' was more like it. Taylor had, in the event, forgotten that Bakuda's bombs didn't just explode. They did other things.

Many other things, as it happened.

Taylor had had her bugs attach lines from the grenade launcher to convenient rings on Bakuda's belt. Specifically, the safety-pins of grenades that he was carrying there. She had been rushed, and she understood from her reading that it was quite difficult to pull the pin of a grenade without first depressing the spoon. However, she had underestimated the difficulty of pulling the pin on a Bakuda grenade, and also the amount of strength that Bakuda would put into lifting the grenade launcher.

The second thing that she had done was to have her spiders weave a very dense web over the barrel of the launcher; while her bugs had also done their best to clog up the firing mechanism of the weapon, they had been less successful here.

Lifting the grenade launcher to its highest elevation, Bakuda began firing as rapidly as his finger could depress the trigger, swivelling so as to spread his grenades over as wide an area as possible. The first grenade came out and was slowed almost to a halt by the webbing; the cylinder revolved, he fired again, and the second grenade hit the first.

The impact set off the second grenade, which set off the first. And then the grenades on his belt detonated. Finally, these set off the remainder of the grenades in the launcher.

Only a couple of these were actually explosive rounds; the rest had quite varied and exotic payloads. They all went off more or less at once, centred on Bakuda himself. He never stood a chance.

\o\

The culmination of all this was a tremendous report, and a shockwave that flattened the nearest storage containers. Taylor and Danielle saw a huge cloud of dust rising over the yard.

Taylor felt ill. “Oh god,” she muttered. “I think he's dead.”

“Who?” asked Danielle. “Liam?”

Taylor shook her head. “Bakuda.”

Danielle's eyes were wide. “That was … Bakuda?”

Silently, Taylor nodded.

“Are Liam and his friends alive?” her mother asked practically.

Even the bugs in the yard had been stunned by the explosion; Taylor got a few of them up and flying around, until she located the Undersiders. They had been shielded from the greater part of the detonation by the sheds, but had still been knocked over, and were covered in dust.

“It looks like it,” she stated, with some relief.

“Good. Can they handle it from here?”

“Uh … “ She checked on the Undersiders. They were stumbling, a little dazed, but recovering. Liam was cupping his ear to hear something that Regal was saying.  _Oh, they've been deafened._

Ending the call, she sent a quick text.  _Can you handle things?_

Liam, although currently hard of hearing, obviously felt the vibration of the text alert, and sent one back almost immediately.  _Sure. Appreciate assist. Six tonite?_

Taylor wanted to shake her head at how casually Liam appeared to be taking the matter, but instead she just replied with  _Sure._

“Okay, Mom,” she told Danielle with a smile. “Let's get back to school.”

It wasn't over yet, not by a long shot. The fallout from this day probably wouldn't be fun at all. But Liam was alive, and that was enough for the moment.


End file.
